


A little death

by StarsMadeinHeaven



Category: South Park
Genre: Character Deaths, Detective Kyle, Gen, M/M, Mentions of blood and wounds, Supernatural Creatures, but nothing explicit, my attempt at slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2020-10-29 19:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 87,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20802002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsMadeinHeaven/pseuds/StarsMadeinHeaven
Summary: Without the myths and legends, South Park was just the most boring place on Earth, at least according to Kyle. When corpses start piling up, Kyle sets his mind to get to the bottom of it.





	1. Once upon a time

**Author's Note:**

> It's so weird to be back on track again, and I hope you'll enjoy this little thing that came biting me in the ass. :'D  
I dedicate this to @Tallemy, for all those pep talks about how fanfiction should be fun.  
And a very special thank you to @LWTIS for being such an awesome supporter and beta!  
And of course, all my love to everyone who kudo-ed and liked my stories so far. <3 
> 
> All of this started by listening to the song "A little death" by The Neighborhood (thus the title) and thinking about Little Red Riding Hood. A strange combination, really.
> 
> * * *

Since Kyle Broflovski could remember, South Park had always been a weird place. 

At first glance, it was nothing more than a small town in the middle of nowhere - with perfectly identical houses in neat rows next to the other, forming a shield against the acres and acres of forest surrounding them. Legend had it that there were mysterious, dangerous creatures lurking between thick foliage and sturdy trunks, shadowing unsuspecting travellers and craving for their blood. There were even stories about mythical fairies, beautiful and ethereal, that could beckon people to their death by just flashing a smile.

Kyle had never believed in such myths. Actually, he was pretty sure they were all fruits of the townspeoples’ fervid imaginations, a hypothesis further supported by the fact that the peak of entertainment in the village was chugging booze in large gulps and lying about the size of the fish they caught back in the day. 

Not to mention the McCormick situation. Generations of McCormicks have been too strapped for cash to afford a house in town, even in the poorest suburban area. They were the only family in South Park who dared to live outside the security of the town’s borders - and since nothing ever happened to them, despite being the infamous monsters’ neighbors, it soon became obvious that there was nothing to fear when walking through the forest. To Kyle, at least.

And Kyle knew them personally, too. Kenny McCormick, the middle child of Carol and Stuart McCormick (professional drinkers and thus experts in creating evocative stories) had been one of Kyle’s best friends since kindergarten. Kyle had never seen a wound on him that would suggest he had been attacked by a monster, not even once. Although - and here Kyle had to admit he didn’t have enough proof to attest his theory - most of Kenny had been hidden behind his ugly, tattered orange parka since he was a baby, thus making it impossible to discern the presence of scars on him. 

Nevertheless, Kyle knew Kenny’s siblings as well and they - contrary to Kenny - did not possess a poker face. Neither Kevin nor Karen showed any signs of fearing what may be lurking in the darkness, and their “no” to his questions were sincere. That was all Kyle needed to put a “case closed” stamp on the supernatural case file. The townspeople just liked to spice their evenings up, because - and here Kyle agreed wholeheartedly - without the myths and legends, South Park was just the most boring place on Earth. 

Kyle became fed up with the town’s daily life pretty early on. He was five, barely able to read a whole book by himself, when he found a plausible answer to “Do monsters live under my bed?”. He was seven, making his way through Gulliver’s Travels, when he realized that scientific proof was the only thing that really made sense. That revelation coincided with his first day in first grade - and the scathing label “nerd” was immediately slammed on his forehead like a stamp at the post office. 

The problem was (and it was a problem, considering the amount of teasing he got for it) that he was not someone who knew when to shut up. He was proud of his knowledge, and he made sure to show it. 

With the exception of Kenny McCormick, none of Kyle’s peers could be reassured by facts and science. Butters Stotch, for example, was grateful for his parents’ strict five o’clock curfew when he became old enough to wander the streets on his own. He hated being out of his room at night and no matter how much Eric Cartman called him a pussy, Butters abandoned all games the moment the sun threatened to set. 

Now, Cartman was a whole new can of worms. 

Kyle would never admit it out loud, not even in a thousand of years and not even under torture, but Cartman was one of his friends. A fatass with no tact and with bad table manners, who dared people to spend a night in the forest to prove their worth before he’d consider granting them the honor of getting into his circle of friends. Which, to be honest, was the smallest circle known to town. Maybe that was one of the reasons why no one boasted about being Cartman’s best friend - although, it was more likely due to the fact Cartman was an asshole. Kyle often wondered how in the world he’d ended up being part of their little group. According to Cartman, it had been pity that drove him to Kyle. (Bullshit). 

Not many people turned a blind eye to Kyle’s ability to recite Of Mice and Men by heart - and even less would only shrug nonchalantly when he went into his lecture mode, ranting about ethics and common sense. Cartman never wasted an opportunity to brag about his ‘endurance’ - and remind Kyle that he should be happy there was at least one guy on Earth willing to deal with his fiery temper. 

And yes, Kyle called bullshit on that. He suspected it was just Cartman’s sadistic nature that was fascinated with him. Truth be told, it was Kyle who endured Cartman’s shitty character and idiocies, which got them all in trouble at least seven times a week. (And no, Kyle didn’t like the thrill of being in trouble. Not at all. If it wasn’t for the Ten Commandments, especially point number 6 - drilled into him by years of Sunday school - Kyle would have gotten rid of Cartman mere seconds after making his acquaintance.) That and Stan Marsh, who always managed to calm them both down before shit hit the fan. 

Now, Stan Marsh was Kyle’s best friend forever, the only one that made his boring life a little less boring. Their parents, friends before they were born, had set their cribs next to each other- and the two had sworn to be each other’s support against their shitty dads the moment they managed to get out of said stinky cribs. Stan was the only one who truly understood him and stood by him no matter what (except for those rare occasions, which Kyle would prefer not to talk about). 

If Kyle had to find a fault in his friend, there was just one: Stan agreed with Cartman about the presence of monsters in the forest, which was….

“…absolute BS, because monsters are not supported by the theory of evolution!” 

That day too, Stan rolled his eyes at his antics and passed Kyle the basketball. 

“Just play.”

“Yes, just throw the ball already, you Jew!” Cartman exclaimed, wildly flinging his fat arms around - as if that would prevent Kyle from shooting through his hoop. Kenny mumbled in agreement, his voice muffled by the fabric of his parka. 

“You guys just don’t get it.” Kyle dribbled and threw the ball: a clear shot though Cartman’s hoop. Cartman whined in protest; Kenny shoved him and called his mother a whore for giving birth to a loser. Somehow, Kyle was the one who got scolded for Kenny calling Cartman’s mom a whore. Granted, Cartman did fear Kenny a little bit since that accident, but Kyle was not going to take the insult lying down just because Cartman was angry at Kenny and was too much of a coward to tell him so. And so they started fighting. At some point Stan pinched his nose and walked away. 

And that was how Kyle spent his childhood in the world. 

Life in South Park was weird and boring, and it kept being weird and boring until the day South Park Elementary found a dead rabbit on the playground. 

It was not the rabbit, per se, that caught the kids’ attention, no. It was the way its neck had been torn apart. The bloody, stinky guts, spilling out from the animal’s ripped-open stomach, were just the icing on the cake. 

“This is disgusting,” Wendy Testaburger said. She shot an annoyed look at one Clyde Donovan, who had grabbed a stick and started poking the animal with it. 

“Should we call someone?” Butters asked. His face was a nice shade of pale, but his eyes wouldn’t leave the carcass, as if he had been placed under a masochistic spell. 

“It’s just a fucking rabbit,” Cartman said, not at all bothered by the scene in front of him. 

“Someone ate his heart,” Kyle declared, noticing the missing organ. 

The noisy discourse that ensued concerning the animal’s gender attracted the adult’s attention. The dead rabbit was quickly taken away, and that was the end of the story. 

When they found another dead rabbit a month later, Bebe Stevens suggested someone was playing a very not animal-friendly trick on them. Cartman and Kyle got detention for blaming each other over the death of the poor animal, and the culprit was never found. That was the end of that story. 

Two months later, Clyde found a decapitated sparrow under the slides. How he managed to get under it and why Clyde was there in the first place when he was supposed to be in class was a conversation that entertained the kids for another month - until the day Token Black noticed a pig’s leg peeking out from under a pile of crisp fallen leaves. At that point, the kids started betting who was going to find the next monstrosity on the first day of every month. 

Kyle was not surprised when the girls blamed the monsters in the forest and he was not disappointed when the boys immediately agreed with them. They were weird accidents, sure, but nothing that couldn’t be blamed on some very human, very sadistic son of a bitch. What he found really fascinating in this story, however, was that all animals were missing their hearts. 

South Park was always going to be a weird place, but when Kyle turned eleven, at least it stopped being boring. 

****

But kids are kids, and soon enough, the decapitated and tortured-to-death animals became a normal occurrence. As time went by, the victims grew bigger and bigger: cats, dogs, sheep and foxes - until the day there was nothing to find anymore. Everyone in town assumed that whoever had started this sadistic game had finally grown tired of it. 

Kyle had graduated high school and was ready to get the fuck away from this town and into a normal college when the unthinkable happened. Cartman had stopped partaking in their group activities. 

“Maybe he found something better to do,” Stan said, idly strumming on his acoustic guitar - a gift from his ex from when he turned sixteen. Kyle wanted to throw that stupid instrument out of the window so much. Mostly because Stan had a weird fascination with it, clearly not over his ex - he always ended up crying and taking to the bottle whenever he played Wendy’s favorite song. (That, and Kyle would never admit how jealous he was that Stan was better than him at something). 

Kenny was strangely silent next to them, although he had always been the silent type. Kyle shot him a look as he flipped the page of his Playboy and whistled loudly at yet another hot bikini babe. Stan’s room was dark - the curtains were drawn and it smelled of cigarettes and cheap cologne. Football players stared at them from the walls - which, as Kenny had pointed out, was actually pretty gay for someone who claimed to be pretty straight. 

“Have you seen him, Kenny?” Kyle asked. Kenny raised his blue-eyed gaze from the magazine and shrugged. Stan struck the chord - here it went again: Wendy’s song. 

“Stan, put that away!” Kyle ordered, and Stan did as he was told. After clicking his tongue in annoyance, of course. “This is serious. If Cartman has yet to show up, it’s because he has done something really devious, and we have to stop him.”

“I’m done with him.” Stan said, laying down on his bed and staring at the ceiling. “Let him get in trouble on his own, Kyle. Why do you care, anyway?”

“Yeah,” Kenny mumbled. The sound of a page being turned was awfully loud in the otherwise quiet room. 

“But don’t you think it’s weird?” 

“Well, it’s Cartman.” Stan reasoned. 

“Cartman’s an asshole.” Kyle agreed.

“We’ve been stuck with him since first grade,” Stan continued. “And now that he’s not knocking on your door anymore, are you really complaining?”

“Kyle, stop overanalyzing everything.” Although Kenny’s tone was light, but Kyle couldn’t help thinking that it sounded out of place- especially considering Kenny knew just how much of an asshole Cartman could be from first-hand experience, more than Stan and Kyle combined. Being the poor kid had never been easy for him, Kyle knew, but he hadn’t expected Kenny to be relieved that Cartman was not around anymore. After all, they had been friends since elementary school…

“You’re doing it again,” Kenny said, and this time there was a teasing grin accompanying his words. 

“I am not.” Kyle immediately got on the defensive. He shot a quick glance at Stan’s alarm clock and turned on his heels towards the door. “I’m going home. I still have some applications I want to fill in before tomorrow.” He heard Stan pick up his guitar again as he stepped out of the room, followed by the sound of a magazine sliding onto the floor. 

Quickly bidding Mrs. Marsh goodbye, he reached for the front doorknob when someone grabbed his arm. He turned around, raising an eyebrow when he came face-to-face with Kenny’s lopsided grin. However, there was something forced in it -something that Kyle couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

“I know you’re lying.”

Immediately, Kyle’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Whatever makes you say that?”

Kenny snorted - a cute sound - making Kyle realize he was being stupid. There was a thought, right in the back of his mind, that told him something fishy was going on with Cartman - a feeling that was urging him to get to the bottom of it, no matter how slim the chance was that Cartman was actually up to no good. But he was probably overthinking it, like always. 

“We’ve graduated,” Kenny said and Kyle heard his amazement at being able to graduate in the way the words rolled off his tongue, “Cartman’s probably just enjoying his mother’s attention at such an achievement.” And Kenny was right, Kyle supposed, because Cartman had been boasting about all the gifts he would get once he was out of high school. Still, Kyle felt uneasy. Kenny seemed to catch on. “But I know you won’t let this story go until you see Cartman stuffing his ass with cake,” he said. “So I’m coming with you to laugh in your face when you make a fool out of yourself.”

Kenny meant to tease, but Kyle could sense the worry in his voice just the same. He chose not to call him out for that and made a beeline to the door instead -but not before shooting an irritated glance towards the stairs leading to Stan’s bedroom. Kyle wished Stan had done the same as Kenny and followed him. 

They made their way to Cartman’s house. Kenny walked quietly by his side, his hands deep in his parka’s pockets despite it being a warm, summer day. Kyle never got Kenny’s insistence to constantly hide himself - although he knew how hypocritical it was of him to say that. After all, he had been hiding his mess of hair in that green ushanka for as long as he could remember…

At first glance, there was nothing out of the ordinary with Cartman’s house. There was his ugly bicycle, lying on the grass next to the garden gnomes Kenny and Clyde had fun putting in compromising positions when they were in tenth grade. There was Mrs. Cartman’s car, parked on the lane leading to the garage. The mailbox was empty, a sign that someone had gotten the morning paper already.

“Let’s ring the doorbell,” Kyle said, opening the gate. It creaked loudly under his hand, and he made a hesitant step towards the front door. Kenny was right behind him, eyeing the garden gnomes with something akin to amusement in his bright blue eyes. 

Kyle rang the doorbell, once, twice. No one answered. At Kyle’s third attempt, Kenny looked up at the window on the second floor- Cartman’s window. 

“I bet they’ve gone to Casa Bonita.” 

Kyle huffed, took three steps backwards and turned to look at said window as well. 

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Kyle conceded, wondering why he hadn’t thought of that before. Going to Casa Bonita was one of Cartman’s favorite pastimes, where Kyle and Stan’s company was just a pain in the ass. And Kenny was always too poor to join. 

Maybe Kenny had been right. Cartman was probably out there, stuffing himself with tacos and pretending to be a studious boy with his mom. If only Mrs. Cartman knew the amount of whining and cheating her precious son had to do to graduate high school. 

“So…” Kenny shuffled his feet, obviously bored with the whole ordeal. 

“Butters will know for sure,” Kyle said instead, letting his eyes linger on Cartman’s window a moment longer than necessary. “I’ll ask him.” 

Kenny shrugged. “Wasted time, dude.”

“If the fatass really went to Casa Bonita without us, I am going to rip his head off,” Kyle said, his anger suddenly overwhelming. 

“Come on - the only time he invited you was when you got the gastric flu and couldn’t go,” Kenny said with a laugh. 

“But I still would have gone,” Kyle said, opening the gate again. The ensuing creak echoed down the street, loud. “…had my mom let me. I wanted to spit in his food and get him sick as well.”

Kenny barked out another laugh, the only sign of life in the eerie silence. 

The walk to the Stotch household was spent in a much more relaxed mood than the way to Cartman’s had been. Kenny suddenly became chatty- which meant he actually replied with more than just two sentences to Kyle’s ramblings about college. For a couple of minutes, Kenny’s sunny presence made him forget all about Cartman’s strange absence. But Kenny had always had that kind of effect on him: the only one who could calm him down when Stan couldn’t. Something that had happened more and more often in the last years of mandatory school, ever since Stan and Kyle’s relationship took a turn for the turbulent. 

The moment they stepped in front of Butters’ house, however, Kyle’s expression became stoic once again. Setting his jaw, he stepped through the open gate, making a beeline to the front door. As if spotting them from afar, the door abruptly opened, revealing Butters’ blond Mohawk look and paler-than-usual face. 

“Hey guys…” Butters fidgeted, throwing glances over his shoulder every two seconds. “It’s not the right time, right now. If you want to hang out, I mean.”

“I’m not here for that.” Kyle said, stepping forwards. He froze when he heard Butters’ dad grumble something unintelligible from the living room. “Ok, listen,” he continued, lowering his voice and earning a raised eyebrow from Kenny. “I just want to ask if you happened to know Cartman’s whereabouts.”

Surprise flashed across Butters’ face, soon replaced with a doubtful expression. 

“Did Cartman send you?” he asked, his tone hurt. “Does he want to assess my loyalty or something? ‘Cause I am not going to fall for that, no, mister.”

“What are you on about?” Kyle said, anger twisting painfully at his guts. “Is Cartman playing a trick on us?”

Fiddling, Butters dropped his gaze to his bare feet. “I have no idea where he is,” he confessed. “I am not supposed to know.”

“Great,” Kenny said. “That just confirms he’s at Casa Bonita.”

“Really?” Butters raised his gaze to Kenny and tilted his head to the side. “Oh, jeez, that explains it.” He looked back at Kyle again. Right at that moment, Mr. Stotch started shouting, and Butters slammed the door shut without a word of goodbye. Kyle blinked at the door - and in a fit of anger, kicked a pebble against it. 

“That greedy bastard,” he huffed. “Why would he need to be so secretive all of a sudden?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Kenny said, wrapping his arm around Kyle’s shoulder and leading him off the porch. “He’s going to rub it in our faces the next time we see him. I bet he already has pictures ready of all the stuff he got to eat,” he added, dejected. 

Kyle groaned. Kenny sounded sincere - and to be honest, Kyle was starting to believe his theory. There was nothing going on. Cartman was just being his usual bastard self, and yet. 

Why did Kyle feel that was not the case, this time? 

***

Silence.

A week had passed since Kyle’s last visit to the Cartman household. It was way past midnight. The ambulance and police sirens colored the dark streets in red and blue. There was Cartman’s neighbor in a pink robe, pointing at the house to one of the police officers. Three men in uniform rang the doorbell and knocked on the door and the sound woke the other neighbors up. The front door was kicked down, someone calling out Mrs. Cartman’s name. A rotten odor filled the streets. Windows were opened. Two stretch-bearers came in and got out, pushing two corpses towards the ambulance, covered in white linen. The neighbor in the pink robe screamed. 


	2. A cry for help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to LWTIS for being an absolute wonderful beta. <3  
And a big thank you to all of you, who took the time to comment and leave kudos! <3

Carefully, Kyle folded the piece of torn paper back into the pocket of his jeans and kept walking. He had stared at it for so long that the picture of Cartman and his mom hugging was now burnt into the back of his eyelids. He remembered that day very well. The picture had been taken on Cartman’s thirteenth birthday - his “sweet thirteen”, as the fatass had called it. That annoying sugar-fake smile had been the consequence of yet another gift from his mother. He had gotten ten ribbon-wrapped boxes, all of them hiding precious items Cartman made his mama buy three months in advance. How Cartman managed to resist so long without opening them, Kyle had no clue, and frankly he didn’t care. It wasn’t even important anymore. The love-stricken emotion on Mrs. Cartman’s face was now a memory. Her son was dead, and she had followed him to his grave. 

They had been found in the kitchen, the article said, a bloody mess on yellowed linoleum. The journalist didn’t get into the details, but Kyle gathered enough to know it had been a gruesome picture. A killer’s masterpiece. A homicide behind closed doors.

Kyle frowned, feeling his eyes sting, and kept walking.

Stan had followed his parents to the funeral reception. He looked so pale and awkward in those black clothes. The jacket was too tight on his shoulders, and Stan had complained about it loudly to Kyle, wondering why his parents were so set on giving a funeral reception for someone who wasn’t even part of their family. Sheila Broflovski frowned when Kyle said he wouldn’t join the party. His father had just shrugged. They both knew Cartman had never been his friend. To be honest, Kyle wasn’t sure why he felt like crying at all. He should have been so happy. 

If Kyle had been happy about Cartman’s death, he would have stayed for the reception to savour that he was now gone. In that moment, the only logical thing on his mind was that he ought to go back home and take off that itchy suit. Stan would make it on his own. He had Kenny with him, anyway. 

“Heya, Kyle!” 

Abruptly, Kyle stopped. He swept a hand over his eyes and turned around to the source of the voice, cocking an eyebrow when he saw Butters running towards him. He too was dressed in black and it didn’t suit him either. Butters shot a quick look over his shoulder before loosening the knot of his tie with a sigh. 

“Mom made me wear this,” he said, as a way to break the silence. He threw his tie a distasteful look and shoved it in his back pocket. “Where’re ya going? Mind if I join you?”

“I’m not in the mood, Butters.”

At that, Butters took an imperceptive step backwards. His lips curved downwards, and he squeezed his eyes shut defensively, as if a blow was going to accompany Kyle’s snappy tone. Still, Kyle was too upset to calm down and back out of Butters’ personal bubble. He remained right where he was and waited for Butters to open his eyes again, letting out a heavy sigh of frustration to make him understand that he had to speed things up. 

“I need to tell you something,” Butters said, licking his lips and throwing another quick glance behind him. “I lied last time.”

Now that was something Kyle didn’t expect to come out of Butters’ mouth. He hesitated in his steps, cocking an eyebrow at the blonde’s sudden discomfiture. 

“Last time,” Butters repeated, “when you came by with Kenny…”

“Yes?” Kyle prodded. Butters started wringing his hands and lowered his gaze to his shiny black shoes. “Oh, come on, spit it out, goddamnit!”

Butters flinched again and this time, Kyle made sure to keep his temper in check. 

“I lied to you,” Butters whispered, stepping closer to Kyle and nose almost bumping against the redhead’s ear. “I mean, I didn’t exactly lie _lie_ ‘cause, gee, I really had no idea where Cartman went, but he made me swear not to tell you guys anything about this, and now he’s gone, like - ” his breath hitched, “he’s dead, and Kyle, you are the only one I can trust, ‘cause he trusted you and - !”

“Hold it!” Kyle exclaimed, shoving Butters away from him. His friend’s last sentence drew an amused, unbelieving smile to his face. His eyes tried to search for Butters' blue ones, but the teenager was still staring at his shoes. “Are you sure we are talking about the same Cartman?” Kyle asked, letting out a bark of laughter despite the seriousness of the situation. “The guy was nuts and he sure as hell didn’t trust me.” 

Butters sighed. “You know what I mean.”

“I sure don’t.” 

“Hmm.” Butters nibbled on his lower lip and started scratching a spot above his elbow. “He told me he was after something big.”

“Something big?” Kyle would be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued. He put a hand on Butters’ shoulders in an attempt to prod him further. “What are you on about?”

“He said he had discovered something.” Butters said, lowering his voice to a whisper again.

Time suddenly seemed to stop, all his focus sharpening on Butters fleeting gaze. For a moment, Kyle forgot he had just attended a funeral - Cartman family’s funeral - but reality hit him again when he caught Butters polishing one of his shiny shoes on his raven-black pants. Suddenly lightheaded, Kyle shook his head.

“It’s not important. He’s dead.”

He was ready to leave when Butters grabbed his arm. 

“Golly, Kyle, I thought you were smarter than that,” he said, eyebrows furrowing reproachfully. “What if Cartman’s murderer is out there and we have a chance to put him behind bars, huh?”

“Butters,” Kyle sighed, “that’s the police’s job. We are not going to do anything. In fact, there is no _we_!” he declared, hearing his own voice grow louder and louder. “When was there ever a ‘we’? If we had been friends, Cartman would have told me something was going on! He would have told you where he was going instead of talking in riddles! If he was, in fact, hunting down serial killers, he dug his own grave!”

Butters bit his lip again, a dubious expression crossing his face. Awkward silence fell over them for a moment - but then Butters shrugged and finally met Kyle’s angry expression head on. 

“I don’t think he was seeking out trouble. Geez, Kyle, you know how Cartman was. He was a coward.” That much was true, Kyle had to give him that. “To be honest, I’ve never seen him so excited about something. He would have probably wanted to rub his discovery in your face, once he got proof of it, that is…” Butters suddenly grew hesitant and Kyle knew why. Cartman would have rubbed it in his face in any case, even without proof. He didn’t need proof to make Kyle’s life miserable.

_What did you get into, fatass?_ Kyle asked himself. A line formed between his eyebrows as he chewed over what Butters said. 

“What did Cartman tell you?” 

Butters shrugged. It was obvious his initial excitement had completely dissipated in the face of Kyle’s evident disbelief. “He said he was going to make a big discovery. That night, two nights before you and Kenny came by, he wanted to meet someone, I don’t know who. He said he was going to confront them and get some info out of them. I asked if he wanted a hand, but he refused.”

“He refused?” The crease between Kyle’s eyebrows deepened. Why didn’t Cartman ask Butters to help him out? Butters was the best scapegoat, the ideal victim to put between himself and a potential murderer. That had always been his modus operandi, after all. Kyle didn’t believe, not even for a second, that Cartman actually had something in his grasp. He would bet his hat that the bastard had been bluffing. Kyle had no idea why, but it was a Cartman thing to do. 

For a moment, Butters seemed to read his thoughts. A look of understanding flashed across his face, then disappointment, followed by something Kyle had never seen on Butters, ever. Sheer determination. Kyle felt his throat go dry. 

“Whatever he got into,” Kyle started and licked his lips, “it got him killed.”

“Should we be afraid?” Butters asked, and Kyle recognized him again: the Butters whose worst fear was to be out of his house before five o’clock. He let out a sigh of relief and, feeling a sudden sense of camaraderie, Kyle gave Butters’ shoulder a squeeze. 

“As long as we don’t do whatever he did.” Kyle said. His heart was still beating fast against his ribcage as Butters nodded once. After that, they said goodbye and went their separate ways. 

If Kyle had known that was going to be the last time he saw Butters, he would have probably asked him to go back to Stan and the others instead of leaving him on his own.

But he had not.

_He fucking had not. _

***

It was the beginning of September and the police still had no clue who managed to tear the Cartmans apart without leaving any fingerprints. Moreover, they now had a missing teenager on their list that demanded their undivided attention, which would just further delay their investigations on the matter. 

When Kyle heard the official police statement, he gagged. He could read between the lines and realize they weren’t actually doing anything about either case. And Kyle was not surprised. In fact, he had first-hand knowledge of how incompetent the police in South Park could be. A shiver ran down his spine as he recalled the incident in fourth grade when Officer Barbrady shot a boy whilst he tried to put out the fire _Cartman_ had started in school. The police had never found out the cause of the fire - and Kyle wasn’t stupid enough to admit it was all because Cartman had wanted to avoid a math test Kyle himself had refused to help him with (AKA, let him copy it). It was not that he didn’t have any faith in South Park’s judicial system (okay, lies. He had none), but he knew that the police would have thrown Kyle in reformatory instead of Cartman - punishment for not being a loyal classmate and friend. Friendship always came first, after all. (And bribery, which was one of Cartman’s not-so-secret talents.)

And it wasn’t just Barbrady and his blunders. Kyle had no faith in Sergeant Yates either, who would rather listen to the words of a lunatic psychic rather than look at actual proof. Kyle really disliked the guy. Yates was one of the myth’s most fanatic preachers, obsessed with supernatural creatures infesting their forests and kidnapping children who hadn’t eaten their broccoli. 

So yes, Kyle was not at all surprised when Sergeant Yates disregarded Mr. and Mrs. Stotch’s pleas for help, but hearing him say that it was Slenderman who had caught Butters made his blood boil. And just to hide the fact he had never searched for the boy in the first place! Why Kyle was eavesdropping on this conversation didn’t matter. Kyle was not a curious guy when it came to unsolved mysteries. He just _happened_ to hide in the bushes under the Stotch’s kitchen window right then. 

Mr. and Mrs. Stotch were very worried and very angry that Butters had been missing curfew for two weeks straight. 

“I hope he’s dead, or he will be in so much trouble!” Mr. Stotch shouted while his wife cried into her handkerchief. “I’ll have him on lock down for one - _no, two! _\- months after this!”

“Poor baby,” Mrs. Stotch sniffed loudly. “He deserves it for worrying me so.”

Disgusted, Kyle left the Stotchs’ backyard before Yates could catch him spying.

*** 

“I don’t understand why you are meddling with the police’s investigations,” Stan said, shoving his hands into his bomber jackets’ pockets. “I bet it’s not that bad and that Butters will turn up eventually. It’s not the first time he ran away from home.”

The air got suddenly chilly, and Kyle zipped up his coat. “He never ran away before, Stan. Should I remind you that the one time he disappeared for a week had been because Cartman locked him in that abandoned cabin?” Stan just shrugged. Kenny laughed, and Kyle shot them both a disapproving look. “Cartman is not behind this, Stan. ‘Cause he’s dead.” 

Kenny’s laughter died in his throat. Stan hid behind his jacket’s collar, suddenly on the verge of fainting. 

“You think…” Stan began to speak, but the words caught in his throat. Kenny made a sudden jerky movement, but Kyle couldn’t discern the expression on the blonde’s face, hidden as it was behind the fur of his parka. Feeling the sudden need to get closer, Kyle walked over to Kenny, who let out a sigh of relief when the redhead bumped their shoulders together in solidarity. 

“Yes,” Kyle said, knowing exactly what Stan was going to say. “There is a murderer on the loose. There is no other explanation. According to what Butters said, Cartman was on to something. I thought he was bluffing, but what if Cartman did have something on his hands? That would explain why Butters disappeared after his confession. I think he’s--!”

“What if it’s just a coincidence?” Kenny interrupted. “What if Butters just got lost or something?”

“Yeah,” Stan agreed, regaining his color. “He’s not dead, Kyle. You are just jumping to conclusions again.”

Kyle scoffed and kicked a pebble from under his shoe. It rolled away from him, down the hill towards Stak’s Pond. He took a deep breath - and then surprised his friends by saying: “I hope so.”

He didn’t need to turn around to know Stan and Kenny had shared a worried glance at his confession. Awkward silence fell on them, but what made Kyle want to hide his face in his ushanka and run away was the stinging in his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry, not over fucking Butters.

Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder. Kyle turned around to see Kenny smile softly at him. 

“I still don’t understand,” Stan said, stepping into Kyle’s personal bubble as well. “Why do you care so much?” 

There it was again, that knot in Kyle’s throat. Kenny’s hand squeezed his shoulder. 

“I don’t.” Kyle bit his lip and brushed the back of his hand over his eyes. “I mean, I fucking hope Butters just fell in a pit and can’t get out, because I couldn’t stand it, if we find out he was killed!”

Stan frowned. “I didn’t know you two were such good friends.”

Kyle barked out a laugh and snapped around to face him head on. “I couldn’t stand that douchebag!” he shouted. “But if he died, then it’s my fault! Don’t you get it, Stan?! I could have stopped him before he did something reckless!” 

“You didn’t know,” Kenny said, his voice barely a whisper. It was a miracle Kyle heard it at all. “You didn’t know.” 

“Kyle, calm down.” Stan’s gaze flickered between Kyle’s angry face and Kenny’s hand, still on his shoulder. “You both are acting as if he’s dead already.”

And with that, the conversation was over. 

***

It pained Kyle to admit that Stan might be right (for once), but he was not ready to give up just yet. He was sure that Butter’s disappearance was linked to the Cartmans’ deaths, especially considering the unusual conversation Kyle had with him after the funeral.

No newspaper seemed keen on describing the circumstances of the murder in detail, but Kyle picked out two very important facts from the trash written by South Park’s elite journalists. First, their front door was locked _from the inside_. Second, all the windows were shut, except for the one in the basement. The only problem was that it was too narrow for a grown man to fit through it. Only a kid, or a very lanky adult, would be able to pass through unscathed, which ruled out the hypothesis that the murderer even made it out of the house. Kyle, however, had seen his share of YouTube videos to know that it was not impossible. 

He had to break into Cartman’s house. He had to see the crime scene with his own two eyes - he’d bet his own head that the police didn’t do a good enough job at gathering evidence. 

When asked to join, Stan had vehemently opposed. “No way in Hell, dude.”

“Stan, we might find nothing,” Kyle tried to reason, “Aren’t you just a little bit curious?” 

The brunette rolled his eyes skywards. “I am not going to break into Cartman’s house.”

“The police are done with their data collection,” Kenny piped up. Kyle shot him an angry look, ready to snap, but Kenny continued before the redhead could. “Which makes a B&E extremely easy.” 

Kyle snapped his mouth shut. Kenny winked. 

“Yeah, Stan.” The redhead said, voice cracking. He coughed quickly to clear his suddenly-tight throat. 

“Nope.”

Kyle shot him a pleading look. 

“Still no.”

“…fine.”

It was just the two of them, then. Kyle and Kenny. And Kyle didn’t mind, really. Kenny was exceptionally good at picking locks. 

They had no time to waste, and so that night, Kyle made up an excuse and left immediately after dinner. To say Sheila Broflovski was displeased would be a huge understatement - but she seemed to calm down when his brother, Ike, made obnoxious kissing noises the moment Kyle reached for the doorknob. 

“You got a new girlfriend, Kyle?” Ike asked in a sing-song voice. Kyle just raised his middle finger at him and stormed out. 

Kenny was waiting for him in front of Cartman’s house. As Kyle made his way towards him, he couldn’t help but think Kenny looked incredibly skinny in his oversized parka. The blonde hadn’t spotted him yet, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He had his hood up, and Kyle couldn’t make out the expression on his face. The moment Kenny noticed him, however, he brightened with a smile. 

They didn’t exchange any greetings, walking around Cartman’s house straight away to break into the backyard. The back door was locked, obviously, but Kenny insisted he was going to get them in faster than a bullet. Although it was still bright outside, the street was empty. There were no cars racing by, no joggers in sight. Feeling certain that someone was spying on them, Kyle urged Kenny to work faster. Without breaking a sweat, the blonde worked the lock, tip of his tongue sticking out in concentration. He let out a small, triumphant cry when the door opened with a soft ‘click’. 

“Ladies first,” Kenny joked, bowing slightly as he motioned towards the door. Kyle frowned. 

“Don’t be an ass.” 

On his way inside, he gave Kenny a gentle push. He caught himself smiling when Kenny snickered behind him. 

_Concentrate_, Kyle reminded himself. They were not here for fun.

All shutters were drawn, making it extremely difficult to see where they were stepping. Kyle had been to Cartman’s house enough times to know they were in the kitchen, right where he and his mom had been brutally murdered. He didn’t dare to open a window to get any sunlight in. Instead, he shut the door and switched on the torch he had managed to smuggle from home without his mother noticing. Kenny stood behind him, so close that Kyle could feel his breath tickling the back of his neck. 

“Are you scared?” Kyle teased him. Kenny didn’t answer, just pointing at the spot on the linoleum, illuminated by the torch. Kyle didn’t need to ask any questions: the dark stains of blood said it all. Throat suddenly tight, he moved the torch to follow the blood splatter. As if someone had cut them up violently with an axe…no, Kyle wasn’t going to go there. His stomach twisted, bile rising up his throat as gruesome pictures flashed through his mind, one after the other. 

“Let’s move on,” Kenny whispered, right in his ear. The blonde’s warm breath dragged Kyle back to reality. He nodded, following his friend out of the kitchen. “So, where to?”

Kyle let his eyes wander all over Kenny’s face. Despite his paleness, made worse by the torch’s light, he looked quite composed - as if the sight of blood wasn’t such a big deal. It was probably better that Stan didn’t tag along. He would have fainted as soon as he stepped into the kitchen. 

“I want to check the basement,” Kyle said. A shiver ran down his spine when his voice echoed down the empty hall. “And Cartman’s room,” he added, softer. 

Kenny nodded. “Do you want to split up?” When Kyle hesitated, he continued: “You know we don’t have much time, Kyle.” 

“You don’t have a torch.”

Kenny shrugged. “The window in Cartman’s basement has always let some sunshine in,” he said. “I think I’ll see well enough.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Kyle searched Kenny’s face for some sign of fear… or worse. As if reading his thoughts, a soft, understanding smile tugged the corners of Kenny’s lips. 

“Or we can go together, if you don’t trust my judgement. Up to you.”

“I didn’t say I don’t trust you.” Then, suddenly making up his mind, Kyle handed Kenny his torch. “Focus on the window.” That said, Kyle turned on his heels and made his way over the stairs. 

“Yessir,” Kenny declared, teasing. The light of the torch grew dimmer as Kenny disappeared behind the corner and down to Cartman’s basement. 

Kyle continued his quest upstairs. He had been in Cartman’s house so many times that he recognized which step he was putting his foot on just by its creak. Moreover, he knew Cartman had been a fucking pussy who was still afraid of the dark. Kyle would bet his ushanka he would find a torch next to Cartman’s bed. 

Ignoring the ‘Keep Out’ sign, scribbled in Cartman’s chicken-scrawl, Kyle pushed the door open. The room was a mess, but Kyle doubted it was due to the police’s search. The bed was made – it was probably the only thing Mrs. Cartman had been allowed to touch in her son’s room. According to the police statements, the two had been murdered late in the evening, so Kyle assumed neither of them had been in bed when the killer broke in. 

Now, that was something Kyle had not considered yet. How come there was no sign of a B&E? Was it possible that Cartman, or his mother, let the murderer in - willingly? 

Kyle shook his head and walked further in. Without warning, the door creaked behind him, and Kyle snapped his head towards it. Pupils dilated, he searched the dark for someone’s presence, but he was alone. The last rays of the sun filtered through the closed shutters, casting long, scary shadows on the walls. In two strides, Kyle was by Cartman’s bed. Dropping to his knees, he felt around on the floor underneath, letting out a sigh of relief when he found Cartman’s hidden torch. He had been right. A bubble of nervous laughter escaped his lips as he switched it, illuminating the room around him. He was alone. 

He searched under the bed, only to find Cartman’s old school books collecting dust. He didn’t find anything out of the ordinary in the wardrobe either. For a moment, he was tempted to unmake Cartman’s bed and see if there was something hidden there. Even the thought made him sick. 

But he would have been willing to do it, had it not been for a yellow note on Cartman’s computer screen. A crease formed between Kyle’s eyebrows as he moved towards the desk to investigate. He flashed the torch against it. 

“_Jimbo Kern_?” Kyle read. “Why would Cartman write Stan’s uncle’s name? And what - what’s that?” He leaned closer, noticing another phrase, scribbled in smaller letters. “Password: Peach? _What the fuck, Cartman?!_” 

Wood creaked, and Kyle jumped in fright as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around - only to see Kenny’s worried face staring at him. 

“Are you okay?” Blue eyes pierced through him, sending a shiver down Kyle’s spine. 

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Kyle said, suddenly defensive. 

“You were shouting.”

“I - I was?” Kyle stepped backwards, bumping into Cartman’s desk. The worry on Kenny’s face slowly vanished, replaced with sheer relief. 

“I think I heard Cartman’s name,” Kenny said, more teasing this time and less concerned. Kyle frowned. 

“The bastard is gonna be the end of me, even in the afterlife.” He turned around and tore the little note off from the computer screen. “What do you think this means?” Kyle asked, handing Kenny the note. The blonde read it once before scowling, looking almost displeased, before he gave it back to Kyle. 

“What the fuck?”

Kyle glanced at the note and shoved it in the inside pocket of his jacket. “I think I need to have a word with Jimbo.”

No comment followed Kyle’s words. 

“Do you - do you want to go in the basement?” Kenny asked. The hesitation in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Did you find anything?” 

His rising hopes were quickly dashed when Kenny shook his head. Resigned, Kyle switched Cartman’s torch off and put it back where he found it. Kenny returned his own torch and together they walked out of Cartman’s room and down the stairs, heading back to the main hall. 

Casting a quick glance at his surroundings, Kyle didn’t notice anything amiss with the house. Everything was just as he remembered - no signs of robbery or fights, no sign that the Cartmans had been caught unawares. Again, Kyle had to wonder if Cartman had let his killer in willingly. Did he know him? Or had it been Mrs. Cartman? Was the murderer a secret lover no one knew about? 

Hesitating in front of the kitchen, Kyle made a sudden U-turn towards the door that lead to the basement. He heard Kenny make a sound of surprise behind him. 

“Aren’t we leaving yet?” he asked. “This place gives me the creeps.”

“And to think you’ve gone to the basement all on your own already,” Kyle said. Jaw set in determination, Kyle ignored his panicky heartbeat and started climbing down the stairs. The wood creaked under his feet as darkness engulfed him whole. Or at least that was how Kyle felt, despite the red rays of the dying sun crawling through the basement window and the light of his torch. As Kenny said, there was nothing to be found there, but Kyle wanted to see the size of that window with his own eyes. He felt - more than saw - Kenny approaching from behind as he aimed the torch’s light towards the window. And then he saw it: a small stain of blood. 

In his surprise, Kyle reached out for Kenny’s hand and grabbed onto it tight. 

So it _was_ true. The murderer had left the house from the basement. Kyle moved closer, dragging Kenny along.

“Do you see that?” Kyle said, tilting his head. There was something wrong with that drop of blood, as if it wasn’t supposed to be there, on its own. The thought sounded ridiculous even to him, but Kyle knew it had to be right. The smudges around it were a clear sign someone had tried to wipe the blood off - or whatever was there before. “Do you see that?” he asked again. 

Kenny squeezed his hand. “Blood.”

Letting out a sigh of resignation, Kyle stepped away from the window. No, Kenny couldn’t see what he could - whatever the fuck Kyle saw. Neither could the police, and that was why this case was always going to remain unsolved. Anger boiling within him, Kyle stormed upstairs again without another word. 

“The fucker,” he muttered under his breath, feeling his eyes sting. Kenny was still holding his hand - or was it Kyle that didn’t want to let go? Frankly, it didn’t matter. “The fucker knew something and he let himself be killed.” Kenny’s hand was cold. They were both pale. Neither of them was in the mood for jokes. 

They crossed the kitchen, eyes fixed sternly at their feet, and closed the back door behind them. The sun had already set, and the lights were being switched on in the neighbourhood, one after the other. Kyle caught only a glimpse of Cartman’s neighbor violently tugging her curtains shut in their wake, but he didn’t pay her any heed. His mind was elsewhere - namely, on Stan’s uncle. 

He needed to talk to Jimbo - and soon. 


	3. Silver

To say Sheila Broflovski was not happy would have been a huge understatement. Extremely huge, in fact, with a capital ‘U’. Her expression of utter disapproval following Kyle’s announcement would have made even the most arrogant man feel ashamed for being born. Kyle would have loved to say he was used to this look, but he was not. Under it, he turned into a baby in diapers again. 

_“You what?_!”

And here it went again: the humiliating ordeal of repeating what was so painfully said.

“I will take a sabbatical.”

Sheila’s eyes turned into slits; Kyle fidgeted. 

_“What??”_

Oh, if looks could kill….

“Sab-ba-ti-cal!” Ike repeated, giggling as both heads snapped towards him. Ike’s shit-eating grin was all they got in response. 

“Mom!” Kyle tried to take matters into his own hands again. “I am an adult now! If I don’t feel ready to go to college yet, then I have all the rights to - !”

“Kyle.” Sheila’s deadpan tone was a stark contrast to Kyle’s desperate one. “You have been preparing for college for years. _For years! _I’ve never seen you as happy as when you were filling in applications!”

“What a sad, sad man,” Ike muttered. 

“Get the fuck out, Ike!” Kyle shouted. 

“Don’t yell at your brother, Mister! And Ike, do get out. This is a private conversa-tion!”

“In the kitchen?! Mom, seriously. I am just here minding my own business and having a P&J sandwich.”

“Get out!” Sheila and Kyle shouted in unison, and Ike finally left, grumbling loudly in his wake. Just a moment later, Gerald appeared in the doorway. 

“Can I just - !” he began, raising his index finger as if asking for permission. 

_“Get out!” _Sheila screeched. Gerald didn’t need to be told twice. 

When they were finally alone again, Sheila sat down and prodded Kyle to take a seat as well. That overwhelming feeling of powerlessness, momentarily forgotten by Ike’s teas-ing, came back in full force. Kyle hesitated. He shot a quick glance towards the door, coughed, scratched his nose, set his jaw and finally sat down. 

Sheila watched his every movement carefully. She tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear before sighing. 

“I know what happened with Cartman was terribly shocking.”

Breath catching, Kyle met his mother’s suddenly-soft eyes. Of all the things he expected her to say, this was not even on the list. Did she really think she was doing this for Cartman?

“I don’t care about that fatass.” Sheila sighed again. The pity in her eyes was too much for Kyle to bear. “I don’t.” He repeated, louder. 

“Kyle, I know you,” Sheila said and Kyle tried hard not to snort. No, she didn’t know him. She had no idea why Kyle was taking a sabbatical, why he suddenly decided to postpone college, after impatiently waiting all these years for the day when he would finally be out of this damn town. 

“I know you, Kyle.” Sheila’s words were soft-spoken, and Kyle lowered his gaze onto the table. “There is something troubling you and I’m sure you want to get to the bottom of it before you finally… leave.”

Stubbornly, Kyle kept his gaze downwards. 

“Your silence speaks louder than words.”

Finally, Kyle looked up. “I am not doing this for Cartman.”

Sheila deemed her son’s declaration unworthy of a reply. With a sigh, she stood and walked around the table to put her hands on top of Kyle’s shoulders instead, in what could only be described as an encouraging gesture. Kyle’s throat suddenly became tight and he squeezed his eyes shut. Sheila’s red nails reminded him of stains on a beige wall. 

“I must say, I don’t mind you staying home a while longer,” Sheila whispered, pressing her lips to the top of his head. Her hands squeezed his shoulders harder. “But college is important, Kyle, and this was your dream. Don’t waste it like this. You know very well that the deadline is the end of February. Don’t you dare waste this opportunity!”

With that said, Sheila let go of him. Kyle remained still in his seat until he heard her leaving the kitchen. The ticking time on the clock go was extremely noisy. The fridge buzzed, just like the thoughts inside of his hazy mind. Suddenly, there was a knock on the kitchen window, and Kyle was pulled back violently to reality once more. 

Seeing Kenny’s face pressed against the window sent a flip through his chest. Hesitation abandoned him. His mother’s words were not important anymore. Fuck college. This was serious. He was not doing it for Cartman. He wanted to take a sabbatical because he fucking wanted to. Smiling at that thought, Kyle shot up from his seat to open the back door. 

“Ready to go?” 

Kenny’s bright smile gave all the reassurance Kyle needed in that moment. It sent a pleasant shiver down his spine, and finally, a sense of control made home in him. Yes. He was doing the right thing. No matter how much he had wanted to go to college at first and get away from this boring town, this case was more important. Once he solved this, Kyle would be at peace. Stan wasn’t helping him out - the coward - but Kenny was, and Kenny’s opinion mattered more than his so-called best friend’s. 

(And when did that change? Kyle couldn’t recall the exact moment when Stan’s com-mon sense stopped pulling the reins of his impulsiveness.) 

“Let’s go.”

The trip to Jimbo was filled with unnatural silence and a prickle of trepidation. Kenny walked quietly next to him whilst Kyle silently rehearsed what he was going to tell Stan’s uncle. Should he be polite? Get straight to the point? Should he ask about the password immediately, or beat around the bush first?

The bell to Jimbo’s shop rang as they stepped inside, and Kyle was still wondering whether to be bad cop or good cop. At the sight of Jimbo, slowly turning around to greet them, the answer became crystal clear. Bad cop, definitely. He wasn’t going to give Ken-ny that role - Kyle still wasn’t sure Kenny was taking any of this seriously. 

“Good morning.” Kyle opted for a formal greeting to break the ice. 

“’morning, Kyle! Long time no see.” Jimbo smiled brightly at them, setting his hands on top of the counter and leaning all of his weight on it. “What can I do for ya?”

After letting his eyes wander over the arsenal behind Jimbo’s back, Kyle focused his attention on a small door to his right, barely hidden by an ugly beaded curtain. 

“Stan told me you started selling guns to minors again. Is that true?” Kyle felt Kenny’s eyes snap towards him at the lie. He willed himself to not exchange any glances. 

“Huh?” Jimbo, obviously taken aback, moved away from the counter in what could only be interpreted as a defensive move. His arms fell to his sides, but the expression on his face stayed jovial and friendly. “You know that after the Tweak case I can do that no more, Kyle. And of course, Stan knows that very well.” 

Eyes narrowing into slits, Jimbo gave Kyle a good look-over. The redhead returned his gaze.

“If that’s the case, what did Cartman want from you, if not to buy a gun?”

Suddenly, Jimbo’s tense demeanor relaxed. He tilted his head to the side and flashed an amused smile at the two teenagers in front of him. 

“Cartman? I haven’t seen that boy in ages!” Jimbo exclaimed. Then, as if suddenly remembering something: “It’s awful what happened to him. I know you and that kiddo were close friends.”

“We were not friends,” Kyle rebuked. Jimbo shrugged. 

“I don’t know what Cartman told you before he died, but I assure you, he had never tried to buy a gun from me – I wouldn’t have sold him one, you know, even if he had asked, of course. There are heavy fines for those who sell weapons to minors, and JC, I am not going to hand my well-deserved wage to a man in a white-collar just ‘cause a teenager wants to play cool with guns.”

With that said, Jimbo disappeared behind the counter for a moment before he stood up again, a double-barrel in hand. Kyle and Kenny’s shoulders tensed, but they both let out a sigh of relief as Jimbo took out a stained handkerchief to polish the metal parts. 

“Thank you for the visit, lads, but I have nothing for ya. Tell Stan I said hi. He should come visit me more, you know. He stopped caring about his ol’ uncle the moment he hit puberty. Tsk. I don’t miss being a teen, not at all. Y’all have some very weird ideas going through your minds…” 

Reading Jimbo’s not-so-hidden invitation to get out between the lines, Kyle’s shoul-ders sunk in defeat. He sucked at this, big time. If this was his chance to show off his bad cop skills, he had totally blown it. A blush crawling up his neck at the humiliation, he took a hesitant step towards the door. 

“Yeah, well - !” 

Swiftly, Kenny’s hand was on his shoulder, giving him a gentle push that almost made Kyle lose his balance. The redhead arched an eyebrow at him in confusion, but Kenny’s eyes were focused solely on Jimbo. 

“Peach.” 

The word rang loud and clear, like a shot in the wilderness. Just like a deer, Jimbo froze, oily handkerchief in mid-air, eyes going comically wide. A smug, lopsided grin grazed Kenny’s lips. It lasted but a moment. Kyle’s heart skipped a beat.

The tension settled over them like a thick blanket of snow. Slowly, painfully slowly, Jimbo placed both gun and handkerchief on the counter. He shared a long, interrogative look with Kenny before moving his gaze onto Kyle instead. 

“You’re not here on behalf of the police, are ya?”

“Dude,” Kenny said, letting out a bark of laughter, “do we look like hacks to you?”

Jimbo snorted, amused. He put his hands on either side of the counter and let out a deep, resigned sigh. “Listen, kids, you’re putting me in a real fix here, you get me? I have no idea what your friend wanted with that gun, but if the pigs get a sniff of that happens here behind closed doors, I’m screwed, ‘kay?” 

“We just want to know what happened to him,” Kyle said, finally regaining his courage and stepping forwards. 

“I wish I knew,” Jimbo said. “Honestly, I thought he looked kinda adorable. Coming here, all mighty, but shaking like a drug addict as he pushed all his money in front of my nose.” He snickered at the memory. “I swear, that scrawny kid couldn’t hurt a fly - !”

Wait. Scrawny kid? Cartman could be called everything but scrawny. Kyle let his gaze linger on Jimbo’s plump figure. Even if the guy had a skewed perspective when it came to these things, he still would have never had described Cartman as South Park’s Next Top Model. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Kyle exclaimed, lifting a hand in the air. “You’re talking about Cartman, aren’t you?” 

“Cartman? Who said anything about Cartman?” Kyle and Kenny shared a surprised look. “I meant that weird kid, you know, with the Mohawk look and that silly name, the one who disappeared…”

_“Butters_?” Kyle blinked. Straight away, recognition brightened Jimbo’s expression. 

“Yeah, that’s the one!” 

“Butters _was here_!?!”

Jimbo’s mouth snapped shut, suddenly on guard. For a long moment, they locked eyes in a staring contest - right until Kyle hid his shaking hands in his jacket’s pockets and turned his face away. 

“You’re not trying to catch Cartman’s killer, are you, kids?” Jimbo asked, his voice slow and wary. Once again, the beaded curtain behind his shoulders caught Kyle’s atten-tion. For a moment, he thought he saw something moving behind it. But no matter how much he squinted his eyes, the room was too dark to make anything out. 

“Listen.” At the sound of Jimbo’s voice, Kyle dragged his gaze back to him. “You must stay away from whatever did that to Cartman, okay? I don’t want your deaths on my shoulders.” 

“We’re not going to do anything stupid,” Kenny said, catching both Kyle and Jimbo off guard. The blonde moved closer to the counter, an aura of self-assurance in every step. His whole demeanor sent a shiver down Kyle’s spine and he couldn’t help but stare, mind suddenly blank. “We just really want Butters to come home.” 

Usually, it was Kyle who knew all the right words to say to convince people to do as he wanted; he was the loquacious one, the wordsmith. Even Cartman had relied on him for that particular talent. Still, the quiet Kenny had just come up with something much more powerful. His sentence, softly spoken and straightforward, made Jimbo’s breath hitch. Kyle could even pinpoint the moment Jimbo’s defenses crumbled like a house of cards. 

If Kyle didn’t know better, he would have easily believed that Kenny cared so much about Butters that he was willing to do anything to get him back. His voice had sounded so sincere, so concerned… and Jimbo fell straight into the trap. Kenny shared a quick glance with him and Kyle nodded, suddenly aware that was his cue to take control of the situation. 

“What exactly do you do here?” 

“You promise you won’t go spilling what I’m gonna tell ya to the police?”

“What’s the deal, Jimbo?” 

At the sound of his name, the older man let out a resigned sigh. “I sell guns.”

“That much is obvious,” Kyle said, setting his jaw and letting his eyes wander over the different weapons displayed in plain sight. “But in this case, we’re not talking about normal guns, are we?” 

“Well,” Jimbo tilted his head to the side and shrugged, “in a way they _are _normal guns. But technology has advanced quickly and now it’s possible to… up-grade them.”

“In what way?” Kyle bit down a snort. “Did you come up with new, creative ways to kill people?” 

“People?!” Jimbo exclaimed, and for a moment, Kyle recognized Stan in his offended scowl. “Hell no, Kyle. My weapons are meant to protect.”

“Protect from what?”

Without giving them an answer, Jimbo walked around the counter towards the front door to make sure no one was eavesdropping. A couple of minutes ticked by in absolute silence before Jimbo finally found the courage to speak.

“Legally, all I do is give out hunting permits. But what you wanna know is something… kinda off the books, you get me? I know from Stan you’re a non-believer, Kyle, but _listen to me_. There are things lurking out there that are more dangerous than a serial killer.” 

Furrowing his brows, Kyle stepped closer to Jimbo. “Are you a terrorist or something?” Jimbo’s harsh laughter pissed the redhead off. “Will you cut it out?!”

“Do you think this is a Holy War, Kyle?” Jimbo asked when his laughter subsided. “This is serious, lad! We’re talking about real monsters! Vampires, fairies, kappas, werewolves… I have all kinds of weapons to protect ourselves from such kind. And for a very modest price. A pretty good deal, if I say so myself.”

Now it was Kyle’s turn to burst out laughing. Actual tears sprung from the corner of his eyes, and he had to grab onto the counter not to fall. What the flying fuck. That was something Kyle would have never expected to hear, ever! The absurdity of the situation took an invisible burden off his shoulders, and he wiped an amused tear away in disbelief. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He tried to catch Kenny’s eyes, but the blonde was staring at his shoes instead. That was enough to get Kyle back on track. The redhead cleared his throat and tried to look serious again. 

“Good,” Jimbo said, noticing Kyle’s sudden change in attitude. “You’re starting to un-derstand.”

Truth be told, Kyle did not, but he decided to let that comment slip. 

“So what did Butters buy?” Kyle asked, not letting Kenny out of his sight. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t notice Jimbo’s unnaturally long silence. Tearing his gaze away from Kenny’s clenching fists, he tilted his head in Jimbo’s direction. 

“A handgun,” the adult finally answered. “A Kel-Tec P-32, 6.6 Ounce .32.”

“Is that all?” 

“Was it fully loaded?” Kenny’s voice rose in the silence that followed Kyle’s question. The redhead’s attention snapped towards him, chest tightening when he noticed Kenny’s lips, tugged downwards in obvious irritation. Kyle had never witnessed Kenny lose his patience (except for that one time with Cartman, when the fatass had the audacity to insult his sister. But that has been a long time ago, when they were stupid kids) and, honest to God, he had no idea why he found the tension in Kenny’s shoulders suddenly so fascinating…

Jimbo’s answer brought him back to reality again. 

“He didn’t have enough money for that,” Jimbo waved a hand in the air and slowly walked back behind his counter. “All I could give him was three silver bullets and he begged for them too. He had enough for two, but I pitied him so much I let him have a third one for free.” 

Wait a minute. 

“Silver bullets?” Kyle echoed, taken aback. 

“Very effective against supernatural creatures,” Jimbo said without missing a beat. 

Kyle stared at him, mouth agape and at a loss for words. Then, as if suddenly remembering a non-existent appointment, he glanced down at his wristwatch: “Okay, thank you, Jimbo. I don’t have any more questions.”

“Mum’s the word, okay, kiddos?” 

“Sure thing, Jimbo,” Kyle said and grimaced. He was being honest. Who in their right mind would ever believe such shit?

***

“Well, that was a waste of time, wasn’t it?” Kyle asked as they walked down the busiest street of South Park. Families, couples and singles walked in and out of candy shops, stocking up for Halloween already, despite it still being September. Kyle watched them for a long moment, feeling anger surge up inside him with each step he made. 

It was as if everyone has stopped thinking about the bloody murders and a boy’s disappearance. No one gave a damn but him and maybe Kenny…

Realizing his friend had not spoken a word, Kyle turned to look at him, brow arched. 

“I bet Butters went out looking for fairies and got lost in the woods,” Kyle joked. There was a ghost of a smile hovering over Kenny’s lips, but it was gone in a blink of an eye. 

“Probably.”

Kyle stopped. Kenny marched forwards for a couple of steps before he realized Kyle was dragging behind. The two shared a look; Kenny’s confusion was crystal clear on his paler-than-usual face.

“He’ll be back,” Kyle dared to say. 

“’hope so.” Kenny shrugged, walking back into Kyle’s personal space. Searching Kenny’s eyes, Kyle could not discern anything out of the ordinary. Except for the fact that something was obviously bothering him. 

But what? Despite hanging out since elementary school, Butters was not their friend, not really. He had always been Cartman’s sidekick, a faithful companion to Cartman’s shenanigans, not theirs. Was Kyle missing something? Butters and Kenny did spend a month together in Hawaii that one time, but that was long ago, and Kyle had never seen them being buddies afterwards… except when Stan was going through that heavy metal phase… were they…

“Is everything alright?” Kenny asked, moving closer. A step more and his nose would bump into Kyle’s. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” the redhead said, “You look unreasonably pale. Are you sick or something?”

Suddenly, Kenny’s cheerfulness was back. An act that Kyle had seen many times before already, but one that always left him relieved. 

“No, bro. Just hungry.” Kenny’s apologetic smile and the sounds of his stomach growling that soon followed was all Kyle needed to momentarily set his suspicions aside. His relief was short-lived, however, and was immediately replaced by sheer anger.

“Jesus Christ. Have you eaten anything today??”

Kenny licked his lips and looked away, stepping out of Kyle’s personal bubble with a small, quick step. “…Just some frozen Eggos.” Probably misunderstanding Kyle’s unnatu-rally long silence, Kenny rushed to add: “It’s okay. I’ll eat later. Don’t worry about me.”

Kyle kept his mouth shut. Despite being sure that Kenny was telling the truth, he couldn’t help but think he was omitting something.

“Kyle, I know that look,” Kenny said, tugging on Kyle’s sleeve. “Are you really angry at me because I didn’t have a proper meal yet?”

“Yes,” was Kyle’s quick answer. 

“Yeah, sure, buddy. Now, what’s got your panties in a knot?”

“Nothing,” Kyle snapped. At Kenny’s arched eyebrows, the redhead scowled. “For fuck’s sake, I said it was nothing. This is not about me, this is about you not having eaten anything and, and - !”

Kenny rolled his eyes upwards. “It’s not the first time and you know it. I think you are just frustrated because our visit to Jimbo was a fluke.”

“Yes, it was.” He took a deep breath, but the words were out of his mouth before his brain could catch up with them. “Okay, you wanna know what’s pissing me off? What pisses me off is that you seemed to believe him.”

Kenny blinked. “What?”

“Oh, you know, all that shit about vampires and stuff… we’re not on Supernatural, for fuck’s sake.”

“Is that all?” Kenny asked. The amused, lop-sided smile back on his face. “You got angry because you think I believe in vampires?”

“And stuff.” Shuffling backwards in embarrassment, Kyle shrugged. “So, you wanna grab something at Burger King?”

With a deep sigh, Kenny shoved his hands in his parka’s pockets. An awkward silence fell over them. Kyle shuffled his feet and pretended to look around to gain some time. 

After three strained minutes, Kyle finally gave up. “Okay, you got me. I guess I am just surprised you care about Butters so much.” 

To say Kenny had not expected to hear that would have been a huge understatement. The blonde blinked at him, tilting his head before a bark of laughter escaped him. “What?”

“Oh, you heard me.” A crease formed between Kyle’s eyebrows. “Were you two besties or something? I swear the moment Jimbo said Butters bought that gun, you looked ready to pass out.”

“Are you jealous someone took your bestie place of honor?” 

The tease in Kenny’s voice didn’t make it easier for Kyle. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh, _Kyle._” Kenny laughed and slid an arm around Kyle’s shoulders. “You know Butters could never take your place.”

“So what’s the big deal?”

“I admit, I am worried,” Kenny said, unaware of Kyle’s heart dropping at those words. “But as you said, he is probably hunting a Chimera and got lost.”

“Technically, I said fairies.”

Kenny snorted. “I think, out of the two of us, you’re the one who’s worrying too much.”

Dropping his gaze on the floor, Kyle started walking again. Kenny rushed to keep up with him. 

“You’re right,” Kyle broke the silence as they rounded the corner, “Jimbo was a fluke. I don’t know what to do next and that irks me.”

“I know.” The softness in Kenny’s voice shouldn’t have soothed him, but it did. “But you’ll get to the bottom of this, I’m sure you will.”

Kyle smiled. “Are you up for Burger King or not?”

“Fine,” Kenny said, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I was hoping you forgot about that.”

“I know you hate people offering you food,” Kyle bumped their shoulders together, “but I owe you one for helping me break into Cartman’s house, so it’s only fair.”

“In that case…”

“Is that a yes to Burger King?”

Kenny sighed. “Yes to Burger King.”

At that, Kyle hid his smile behind his jacket collar. 

***

Kyle was in a strangely good mood when he got back home later that evening. His parents were watching the news on TV and didn’t spare him a glance. Only Ike rushed down the stairs to greet him. 

“Hey, dipshit!” Ike exclaimed, black hair a messy nest on top of his head. Kyle was too happy to care, or to come up with an insult of his own. Instead, he arched an eyebrow at him in question. 

“Ike, that’s not the proper way to address your brother,” Sheila said, not taking her eyes off the screen. Ike and Kyle shared a look before they climbed up the stairs together. 

“Kyle, Kyle, Kyle,” Ike said, shaking his head and leaning against Kyle’s door. Kyle dropped his jacket on the bed and fell into his office chair. “Why would you keep such a big secret from me? Don’t you love your lil’ angel of a brother?”

“Angel is a stretch.”

“Very funny,” Ike said and dropped on Kyle’s bed, right on top of his jacket. “Now will you spill the beans? Who is she?”

“She?” Kyle furrowed his eyebrows, but all he got in response was evil laughter. 

“Your girlfriend called you~” he said in a sing-song voice. “She said to call her back. Thirsty much?”

“Cut the crap, Ike.”

“She had a very deep voice,” Ike continued, “very sexy.” 

“Who?”

“Your girlfriend, duh,” Ike said, standing up and slowly making his way out of his brother’s room. “Henrietta must be blind for liking such an ugly face. Make sure to call her back and treasure her.”

“Jackass!” Kyle shouted. Ike laughed and disappeared before Kyle could hurl a book at his head. 

Henrietta? Kyle didn’t know any Henrietta… oh, wait. 

“Ike!” Kyle exclaimed, shooting up from his chair and running to Ike’s room. “Was she Henrietta Biggle? The goth freak?”

Ike, about to start a game on his PC, regarded him with an annoyed look. 

“You should know. You’re the one into some freaky stuff.”

Kyle shut Ike’s door behind him and quickly walked back into his room. He had no idea what Henrietta wanted from him, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t dying of curiosity. 

Without thinking, he grabbed his phone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to LWTIS for the beta. <3  
And a thank you to all of you, for liking this story so far! <3


	4. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone!! May 2020 be a good year for all of you!!

Architecturally speaking, the Biggle residence didn’t differ from any other two-storey building within a 50 miles radius - that is to say, the whole of South Park. If it weren’t for the lack of a number, Kyle wouldn’t have given it a second glance. Perhaps it was that small detail that made Kyle stop and stare. He knew, even if Henrietta hadn’t told him the exact address, that he was standing right in front of her house. (“Remember where my idiot brother was seen last, four years ago? No, not Brandon. He was called Bradley, Bradley Biggle. Damn, you are dense… I said what I said, Broflovski. Now, this is where you have to go.”) 

To be entirely honest, Kyle didn’t remember Bradley Biggle. The disappearance of the boy, under mysterious circumstances four years ago, was something that he had completely obliterated from his memory. The bell that Henrietta’s words had rung wasn’t quite loud enough. Nevertheless, Kyle knew where he was supposed to be headed. 

So there he stood, in front of this house with no number, staring at the closed windows and wondering what the hell he was doing. His heart was beating unnaturally fast. There was something about this place that prevented him from stepping forward and pushing the gate open. Silence was all he could perceive, alongside the elongating silhouette of the house, painted on the pavement as the sun ebbed below the horizon- a shadow that threatened to engulf him whole. 

“Kyle, you’re an idiot.” He must have only murmured the words, but they crackled in the silent alley like a firecracker. He jumped, snapped his head around, saw no one and sighed. “You’re a fucking idiot.” 

It was all in his head. Cartman’s death, Butters’ disappearance, the visit to Jimbo and now this. It was all messing with his capability to think rationally. He should have gone to sleep and forgotten about it. He shouldn’t have dialed Henrietta’s number. He should have asked Kenny to come with him. His presence would have calmed him down - the only one who would have laughed in his face for hearing firecrackers where there were none. 

Or not. Kenny wouldn’t have laughed in his face. He would have-! What? Kyle had no idea what Kenny would have done. Reassured him, maybe. Yes, Kenny would have reassured him, and Kyle needed someone to tell him he was not going crazy. 

“So how long are you going to stand there?” 

The husky voice whipped him back to reality. Looking up, Kyle met Henrietta’s less-than-amused gaze. She was leaning against the wall by the door, a long cigarette dangled perilously between her fingers. A trail of smoke from its tip vanished in the wind, and Kyle couldn't help staring in complete fascination. Eventually, he dragged his eyes away, gazing at Henrietta’s long, black dress from top to bottom. 

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” the girl said. The expression on her face remained completely impassive as a blush crawled up Kyle’s cheeks. 

“I wasn’t staring.”

“Sure you weren’t.” Henrietta took a drag and motioned him to come closer with her free hand. As if under a spell, Kyle rushed to comply with her silent request, immediately feeling humiliated afterwards. They hardly ever talked, yet here he was, eager to please her like a loyal underdog. He willed himself to stop, but his legs seemed to move on their own accord. 

“Kyle Broflovski,” Henrietta addressed him. Her condescending tone of voice irritated him. She gave him a good look-over and blew a mouthful of smoke at him. Kyle resisted the temptation to snatch the cigarette away and stomp it out. His eyes stung as smoke floated into his nostrils. Still, he was unable to move away. 

“Your brother is a pain in the ass,” Henrietta said. “But, unlike you, he asks all the right questions.”

“Are we here to talk about Ike?” Kyle asked, brusque. “If that’s it, I don’t see the point of calling me and ordering me to come here.”

“If that’s so, how come you are here now?” Henrietta asked. Finally, she threw her cigarette butt on the cobbled lane and invited him inside. 

“I didn’t-!” Kyle was ready to complain, but no words followed. Anger simmered in him, but he had no way to show his irritation without being rude - and right now, being rude didn’t seem like the best course of action. He followed Henrietta inside the plain-looking living room and threw a bored glance towards the family pictures lining the ugly yellow wall. Henrietta stood out in all of them, a splotch of black in a happy-looking family. 

“Kyle,” Henrietta said and motioned to the sofa. He plopped down on it, silently cursing himself for not putting up a fight. Contrary to him, Henrietta remained standing.

“What did you call me for?” Kyle asked. He swore he could die of anticipation, heart racing in his chest as Henrietta, elegant despite her bulk, sat down on the couch across him. 

“I want to warn you,” she said, reaching towards the coffee table and taking a cigarette from the pack lying there. “In this game you are playing, I doubt you will come out a winner.”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed into slits. “What game?”

“You are being too much of a conformist to see the truth,” Henrietta said, playing with the cigarette but not lighting it yet. “I know what you are seeking and, trust me, it’s better if you leave things as they are.”

The memory of the beaded curtain in Jimbo’s shop flashed through his mind’s eye. His breath hitched and he grasped the sofa’s arm with much more force than was strictly necessary. “Were you there?” For the first time since they met, a small smile appeared on Henrietta’s black lips. “What were you doing there?!”

“I see you started asking the right questions,” was all she said. “So far, you are doing a pretty bad job at it.”

Kyle crossed his arms over his chest. He was on the verge of bursting. “What were you doing there?” he asked again, his voice getting colder. Henrietta stared at him under half-lidded eyes. 

“If you don’t believe in the supernatural, I don’t see why I should answer.”

“The supernatural…” Kyle snorted, shook his head, and moved his feet, ready to stand up. “You’re crazy.” He made a move to get up; he couldn’t. “You are both crazy. You and Jimbo and - !”

“Butters,” Henrietta interrupted, putting the unlit cigarette on the coffee table. She didn’t meet his eyes, but Kyle recognized the sadness in her expression all the same. 

“Yeah,” Kyle breathed, not knowing what else to say. “He fucking bought a gun.”

“Not an ordinary gun.” 

“Whatever.”

Silence fell upon them. Henrietta remained perfectly still as Kyle stared at the cigarette, weirdly placed on top of the pack, right under the brand’s name. He was no expert in cigarette brands, but he was sure he had never seen a “Walter Wolf” cigarette pack in his whole life before. Unexpectedly, a cold shiver ran down his spine. 

“What did Butters want with a gun like that?” Kyle asked, shoulders tensing. Suddenly cold, he slid his hands between his thighs. 

“You're supposed to be a smart guy, Kyle,” Henrietta said. “You know what people do with guns.”

“Then who did he want to kill?” 

Henrietta tapped on the coffee table once and then reached for the cigarette again. “Who knows,” she whispered. “In any case, whatever it was ended up killing him.” Kyle was sweating. Cold. Cold. Cold. Drops of water ran down his temples and onto his eyelashes. He was freezing. Henrietta still didn't look at him, focused as she was on her cigarette. “But that’s not a good question either, Kyle… _think._” She took a lighter out of her pocket to play with the fire. 

“He’s not dead,” Kyle rushed to say. “They didn’t find the body yet. Butters might-!”

“The problems with conformists,” Henrietta interrupted him, obviously annoyed by Kyle’s outburst, “is that they never think outside the box.”

His pulse was unnaturally fast. Kyle looked around, searched every corner of the living room for something that would explain his unreasonable panic - that irrational sense of being left alone in a refrigeration unit. But there was nothing unusual about the place. After giving the room another good look-over, Kyle suddenly realized Henrietta was staring at him. The corner of her mouth tugged upwards. 

“I feel you are starting to understand.”

“I don’t fucking know what you are talking about, goddamit!” His voice shouldn’t have come out so shaky. He was losing it. He couldn’t be afraid of nothing. He was not the guy to be panicking. Over. Fucking. _Nothing. _

“Unlike you, I do have a question,” Henrietta said, taking the cigarette to her lips. “Are you sure you want to get to the bottom of this?”

Kyle’s answer was fast and confident. “Yes.”

“Then let me help you out…” Henrietta stood up and moved towards one of the windows. “Butters didn’t go hunting on a full moon on purpose. The question you are not seeing is this, Kyle: Why?” 

***

Why? _Why?_ Kyle had no clue why. In fact, that was a stupid question to begin with. No one looks at the full moon and decides it's not the right time for hunting. Who goes hunting in the middle of the night, anyway? And who said Butters was hunting in the first place? This was ridiculous. The conversation with Henrietta was ridiculous. Henrietta was being ridiculous. 

Pointless. Visiting Jimbo had been pointless. Answering Henrietta’s call had been _pointless_. Kyle left the Biggle’s residence with a bad taste in his mouth. His quest for truth amounted to nothing. Oh, if Cartman could see him now…. He would be laughing his head off, taking the piss out of him in that characteristic, freaking annoying way of his. And Stan! If Stan had known what Kyle had been doing for the last couple of days, he would have called the mental asylum for a quick check. And he would have been right to do so. Kyle was losing his mind. Either that, or the whole town was much more mental than he initially assumed. And Kenny…! Who knew what went through Kenny’s mind when Kyle was stomping his feet like a spoiled brat and demanding to break into Cartman’s house? He had made a fool of himself, and to think Kenny pitied him hurt more than either Stan’s eye-rolling or Cartman’s taunts. 

This was a straightforward murder case. The police were failing to find the culprit and blamed the Slenderman for lack of anything else. Butters was an idiot. He had probably believed them and decided to go hunting supernatural creatures all on his own, getting lost in the process. Jimbo saw a potential profit and sold him a gun with three silver bullets, and Henrietta, who probably worked for Jimbo with that under-the-counter job of his, was backing him up. There was no other logical explanation. 

No. Kyle wasn’t going to fall for their shit. He was going to find the culprit and bring him to justice. South Park couldn’t have a murderer on the loose just because everyone was too stuck in their fantasy world to see what was right in front of their noses! Kyle was going to find the truth and the truth would surely lead him to Butters’ real whereabouts. The Stotches will thank him profusely and the police will eat their service caps for having been beaten by a sixteen year old boy. And his mother will be proud! She will finally realize why Kyle had decided not to go to college and would even praise him for it. Fuck this shit. Kyle was not going to get scared by a ghost story, no matter what Jimbo and Henrietta’s motives were. He didn’t care about them, anyway. 

The Broflovskis’ household was silent as he snuck back in on his tiptoes. He knew his stairs well, feet finding the exact spots that creaked the less, so as not to wake up his mom. His parents’ door was slightly open - his father’s loud snoring echoing in the hallway. Kyle moved onwards, not at all surprised when he noticed a thin line of blue light filtering under his brother’s door. Ike was still playing videogames – it was not even eleven, and Kyle knew he would continue until four in the morning. 

“You’re already back?” Ike asked, not taking his eyes off the screen as Kyle pushed the door open. Probably feeling the hesitation in Kyle’s footsteps, Ike eventually tore his gaze away from his game. Kyle had no idea how the boy could read him so well. He didn’t need to say anything, and there was Ike, pausing his game for him. It was an honor, really. “Did something happen?” the brunette asked, placing the controller in his lap. 

Kyle hesitated. Something in the back of his mind told him this was going to be a point of no return. It was unreasonable, but for the briefest moment, Kyle had the feeling that asking for what he wanted was going to be the biggest mistake he’d ever make in his life - after taking a Sabbatical, of course. 

Pushing that thought away, he finally decided to speak. “Ike, I need you to do something for me.” Annoyance flashed across his brother’s face, soon followed by a curious tilt of his head. Seeing that he had Ike’s full attention, Kyle continued, despite his pride yelling at him to shut the fuck up. “You have to hack into the police’s records.”

A range of emotions crossed Ike’s face: confusion, disbelief, irritation, all sprinkled with a shade of utter amusement. “Are you high?”

Damn. Kyle shuffled his feet, glanced over his shoulder, fought against the sudden need to run back into his room and forget all about it… “Okay, I knew this was a bad idea.”

“No, seriously, are you high?” Ike asked again, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Because, wow, Kyle, just wow.”

Fuck. “Okay, you know what?” Kyle scratched an itchy spot on his arm. “Forget this. Hacking the police is not only impossible but - !”

At that, Ike snorted. “Who the fuck said it was impossible? Even babies can do that, Kyle.” Shaking his head in amusement, Ike moved his chair around to face the screen once more. “You insult me.”

“Just forget it.”

“Oh no, I won’t,” Ike said, starting his game again. “This town is so goddamn boring. I need a breath of fresh air. What are we talking about here? Your gf’s police record?”

Kyle fought against his sense of dread again. “Cartman’s murder.”

Ike’s breath hitched. The car he was racing with crashed into a cliff. Game over. Game over. Game over. Deafening loud silence. 

Ike’s question was a whisper in the dark. “What exactly do you want to know?”

“I want to know everything,” Kyle said. “Everything the police is not telling us.” 

Ike turned his head towards him. The silence became unbearable as Ike looked at him hard, long and scrutinizing. All amusement was gone from his face, replaced by something Kyle would have never wanted to see on his brother’s face, ever: pity. 

“Just forget it, Ike.”

“You’re aware that mom is gonna kill us both if she ever finds out.”

Kyle sighed. “What do you want?”

Finally, Ike’s smile was back on his face. “Be my bitch for two months.”

Kyle groaned. “I am not going to do your chores for two months!” 

“This is not an offer you can refuse.”

“I refuse!”

“Fine, you hack the police then.”

“One month.”

“One and a half.”

“One and one week.”

“We have a deal.” 

Rolling his eyes, Kyle left Ike to his game and barricaded himself in his room. 

Damn it. The things he did for truth. 

***

For a couple of days, nothing happened. And although Kyle’s quest for truth kept scratching at the back of his mind, he was able to enjoy the tacky decorations in the shop windows and ignore that wave of nostalgia that overwhelmed him whenever he saw groups of boys talking loudly about their Halloween night plans. 

“Jimmy and Timmy are gonna throw a party. You coming?” Stan called him the night before. Kyle could hear him throw a plastic bouncy ball against the wall in his room and could picture him clearly - lying on the bed, holding the receiver sloppily against his ear.

“A party? I thought Jimmy’s mom was against parties since that time she caught Jimmy high off his ass...” Kyle answered, lazily flipping the page of the book he was reading. Stan didn’t reply immediately. The redhead heard Mrs. Marsh’s voice shouting at her son to stop before he made a hole in the wall before Stan slammed the door to his room shut. 

“His mom agreed.” Stan finally said. “Well, they are leaving for college soon, you know, so they wanna celebrate and stuff, so....”

Kyle looked up from his book. “They got into college?”

“_Dude!_ They have been talking about this for months!” 

“….I must have forgotten about it.”

“You don’t really care, Kyle, I know. But you coming?”

Kyle shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t think they are gonna come back to South Park before they graduate. Are you sure you don’t want to see them at least once before they leave?”

Stan was right. Kyle was being a dickhead: Timmy and Jimmy have always been good friends of theirs. _Despite_ the shit Cartman had put them through, too.

“Fine,” Kyle sighed, “do we need to dress up?”

“We’re too old for this shit. Just do what you want.”

Kyle did - which meant he went dressed as a Blood Elf from Warcraft 3, because damn, he did love Halloween. He was not the only one, as when he finally showed up at Jimmy’s door along with Stan - who decided to go with the first outfit he found in his closet - they were greeted by a Frankenstein in a wheelchair. 

“Timmy!” Frankenstein shouted, welcoming them inside. 

“Hey, dude,” Stan greeted. 

“Timmy.”

“Thanks,” Kyle answered following Stan inside. “And congrats for getting in college.”

Timmy flashed him a smile and rolled back in the living room, where the party was taking place - music loud, the smell of chips and beer almost nauseating. Kyle and Stan soon found the rest of their friends. Jimmy the Zombie waved at them enthusiastically with his crutch; Craig - normal-looking except for the S duct-taped on his chest - gave them a slight nod. There was Bebe in her old cheerleader uniform - the one she put on once before she decided she was more apt at playing basketball rather than cheering the athletes on - and a weird-looking Pikachu Clyde, stuffing his face with Cheeze-Its and Gatorade. 

“Hey, guys!” 

Kyle immediately snapped to attention. Highly disgusted by the show Clyde was putting on, he hadn’t noticed Kenny leaning against the doorframe, talking with a girl. The blonde stepped towards them, grin wide as Kyle gave his costume a long look-over. 

“Like what you see?”

“Did you seriously put fake angel wings over your parka? And what’s that? A tiara?” Stan asked, pointing at the strange, pinkish crown Kenny had managed to balance over his hood. 

“It’s Karen’s,” he explained with a shrug. “I had to make do.”

“You look great,” Kyle said, feeling a blush set his cheeks on fire when both Stan and Kenny looked at him weirdly. “I mean - well, you look much better than Craig and - !” Stan’s enquiring eyebrow almost disappeared into his hairline, while Kenny’s lop-sided smile grew bigger. Kyle coughed. 

“He has a fucking pink tiara _on his parka’s hood_!” Stan exclaimed. 

“It’s a halo now,” Kenny said matter-of-factly, “and dude, what are you dressed as?” He turned to Stan, jabbing a finger at his black shirt. “A Kiss fan?”

“I am gonna get something to drink,” was all he got for an answer. Rolling his eyes upwards, Stan joined Clyde at the buffet table. 

“Figures,” Kyle muttered under his breath. A soft chuckle claimed his attention from Stan filling his first cup of alcohol for the evening. 

“Let him be, this is a party after all,” Kenny said. He took a step forwards and gently touched the tip of Kyle’s fake elf-ear. “At least Mrs. Valmer didn’t say no to alcohol.” 

“Hmm.”

“Your costume is super-cool, man.”

“T-thanks. You’re too. I meant, yours.” 

Kenny smiled widely at that, and Kyle couldn’t even hold it against him. He felt mesmerized by Kenny’s smile, and for a moment, he couldn’t care less about his slip of the tongue. Someone suddenly switched the lights off and LED party lights flickered to life, sprinkling Kenny’s face with touches of red, blue and green. The music grew louder, and although it was just six in the evening, the atmosphere was one of a rave taking place in the middle of the night. A group, consisting of Scott Malkinson, Kevin Stoley, Red and Jenny Simons, started a game of beer pong. Bebe was dancing with Token Black while Nichole danced next to them with Jessica Rodriguez. 

“Down! Down it goes!” Clyde shouted, loud enough that his voice could be heard above the deafening techno music. Kyle and Kenny tore their gazes from each other to shake their heads at Stan gulping down a can of beer, egged on by Clyde. 

“Why can’t he get over her already?” Kyle asked. “We all knew that the moment she graduated, she would flee.”

Kenny remained silent. Turning his attention back on him, Kyle arched an eyebrow, wondering why Kenny wasn’t agreeing with him. All he got in response was a sheepish smile. 

“I don’t know, man. Hey, want to dance?” 

“Dance,” Kyle deadpanned. Seeing Kenny’s expectant blink, Kyle continued: “You fucking know I don’t dance.”

“Yes, you suck big time,” Kenny laughed and grabbed his arm, “but when will you have the chance to dance with a sexy angel again?”

“That sounds charming, but no.”

“In that case, I’ll just ask Kelly.”

“Why Kelly?” Kenny snapped, letting his gaze wander until he spotted her chatting with another girl. Her too-revealing policewoman costume prompted an unpleasant twist in his guts. 

“She’s got sexy legs,” Kenny said with a shrug. 

“And I don’t?!” 

Kenny’s eyes immediately found his. Kyle flushed ten shades of red. “Did you just ask what I thought you asked?”

“Shut up.”

“Duuude, you did - !”

“I said _shut up_!” Kyle snapped, massaging his temples when Kenny laughed loudly. “I am gonna grab something to eat. You have fun.” With that said, Kyle turned on his heels and made a bee-line for the buffet table. He waited a couple of minutes before glancing over his shoulder, and when he did, he saw Kenny grinding against Kelly. 

He sighed and grabbed a mini pizza. Damn Kelly and her sexy legs-! No, what the hell. Damn Kenny and his need to fucking dance. Angrily, he gulped down his pizza and reached for a sandwich. 

“Your costume is fucking cool, man!” Clyde exclaimed, patting him on the back and almost making Kyle choke on a piece of cheese. “I wanted to do something Warcraft-inspired too, but man, Craig said it would be too childish, so I went with Pikachu instead. I don’t regret it one bit!” He grinned. “The girls think I’m fucking cute!”

“Hey, Clyde,” Kyle sighed and poured himself a glass of Coke. He could still feel the cheese in his throat and he tried to wash it down with his drink. Letting out a sigh of relief, he turned towards the impromptu dance floor again. 

“I haven’t seen you since the funeral,” Clyde said, squeezing his shoulder sympathetically. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” Kyle replied, maybe a little too fast. “Why?”

Clyde shrugged. “Stan mentioned that you’re not going to college.”

“I am!” Immediately, Kyle was on the defensive. “I am, just… not yet.”

“That’s weird,” Clyde hummed and took a sip of whatever was in his red cup. “You and Wendy were the only ones who couldn’t wait to get in college. And now look at us. Wendy has kept her promise, and Timmy and Jimmy are going to follow her example. While you… well… what the fuck are you still doing here? Were you fed up with your nerd title? Feeling a little rebellious over there?”

“That’s none of your business,” Kyle mumbled. He brought his own cup to his lips but he wasn’t in the mood to drink anymore. Eyes following the movements of Kelly’s legs, he asked: “And what about you?”

“You mean college?” Clyde let out a bark of laughter. “No man, that’s not for me. That’s what my mom always wanted though – for me to get a decent degree… and you know what? Fuck her. I’m planning a trip to Europe instead. Token promised he’d take me. You know, he got into this elite college in England or something. I am allowed to tag along for a couple of weeks.”

Kyle wanted to ask just how much Clyde had to whine and cry until Token gave in, but kept his thoughts to himself. Silence stretched between them until Clyde broke it with a sad little laugh. 

“You know who wanted to come too?” He asked, his big, brown eyes softening uncharacteristically. “Butters.”

Kyle gave him his undivided attention. “Butters?”

“Yeah, ever since the fatass died, Butters had been rambling about visiting Germany… I think it was Germany, at least. Anyway, it was what Cartman wanted to do, right? And Butters thought he could honor his memory or something if he did that in his place. Pretty pathetic. But Butters has always been a pathetic, sad little man, so there’s that.”

Germany… Kyle bit his cup. He had no idea Cartman had dreamed about going to Germany and Cartman had always made sure to brag about his plans! Or not… well, he didn’t talk to him about his ‘big discovery’, did he? But he did tell his best friend Butters, didn’t he? And Butters? Why did people keep bringing him up when he least expected it??

“I bet he did it in the end,” Clyde said, snapping Kyle out of his thoughts. 

“Huh?”

“Go to Europe,” Clyde explained. He turned around and grabbed a sandwich from the table. “’bet he’s ‘n m‘cow al’ea—dy,” he added, mouth full.

“Moscow is in Russia,” Kyle said. 

“’ight.” Clyde rolled his eyes and kept munching. Gulping down his drink, he continued: “Butters is an idiot. If he had waited a couple of months, he would have had a free ride to Europe with Token’s private jet. But he refused, said he had a thing or two to deal with first, which - come on! He was just shitting his pants at the idea of getting in a jet. Pussy.”

“What things?” Kyle asked, suddenly interested. 

“Hey, guys!” Scott suddenly chimed in, “We are short on players, wanna join?”

“For a game of beer pong? Fuck yeah!” Clyde exclaimed and grabbed Kyle’s arm, despite the latter’s protests. 

Kyle would have much preferred to stay sober rather than get drunk with Clyde and Scott. But he sucked at the game and one beer followed the next as fast as the ping pong balls flying across the table. 

And then, he was suddenly happy. Light as a feather, hands clumsily holding onto the cup. He was unexpectedly in a mood to dance - and this was weird because he’d hated dancing ever since that stupid skit they had to do in fourth grade for Christmas and Mr. Garrison ordered him to be in it, despite Kyle telling him he had nothing to do with Christmas events because he was a ‘fucking Jew’, as Cartman always reminded him. And thus, ended up being a very clumsy Christmas tree, spinning around like one of Tweak’s stupid spinners and Kenny had puked up the spoiled ginger cookies he’d pinched somewhere and blamed him because his dancing had made him dizzy and - wait! He could ask Kenny to dance. But…

Where was Kenny? He had lost sight of him since Clyde dragged him away to this stupid game. Was he still with Kelly sexy legs? He was, wasn’t he? Making out in Jimmy’s bathroom, or even getting to second base on the poor boy’s bed. Kyle bet Kenny would like that. Oh, of course he would. Damn Kelly and damn her sexy legs. 

“Hey, Stan,” Kyle said, waddling over to his friend, sitting cross-legged on the floor with Red and Bebe, talking about who-knows-what. “Have you seen Kenny?”

Stan raised his gaze towards him, clearly annoyed about being interrupted. “No. Why?”

“I think he went home already,” Bebe cut in without looking up from her perfectly manicured hand. Kyle stopped craning his neck to look for Kenny in the crowd and tried to catch Bebe’s gaze instead. Silence stretched out between them as Bebe focused her attention on everything but Kyle. Finally, as if resolving some internal argument, she said: “By the way, Kyle. I am sorry about what happened to Cartman.”

The shock almost sent Kyle reeling backwards. “You are what now?”

“I mean,” Bebe tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ears, “I hated his guts like everyone with a basic common sense, but you guys were friends and I can only imagine the pain you are going through… stop looking at me like that! Jeez, Kyle, I said what I said. Don’t make it more awkward than it already is.”

“We were not friends,” Kyle mumbled. “So have you seen Kenny, or not?” 

“I’m pretty sure he left,” Red said, speaking for the first time. “I saw him rushing out not long ago.” 

At that, all of Kyle’s senses sharpened. He immediately searched Stan’s gaze, but his friend just shrugged. 

“Was he sick?” Kyle asked, getting worried. 

“Well…” Red scratched her chin pensively. “He did look kinda pale, but it might have been these fucking disco lights.”

“I need to check on him,” Kyle said, placing his empty red cup on the closest flat surface he could reach - the couch’s arm. 

“Dude, you know how Kenny is,” Stan said. “He probably got tired of fooling around and decided to call it a night.”

“Do I need to remind you there is a murderer on the run?” Kyle asked, surprised by the anger in his voice. “This is no time to go walking around South Park on your own.”

“A murderer on the run?” Red whispered, sharing a startled look with Bebe. 

“This Cartman thing got to his head,” Bebe said. 

“This is not about Cartman!” Kyle exclaimed. “Jesus!” And with that said, he left Jimmy and Timmy’s party, heading for the McCormick household. 

The streets were anything but empty. Groups of kids were walking from house to house treat-or-treating, while the grown ups were hanging out together, enjoying the October night, beers in hand. Nothing threatening in sight. 

Still, Kyle walked fast towards the woods, where the McCormicks lived, the traffic easing with each step. The laughter of the kids was soon replaced with eerie silence. The breeze grew colder, rustling the branches and sweeping up fallen leaves. 

Still, Kyle was not afraid. 

The full moon lighting his path, he moved forwards, into the woods. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, LWTIS, for the wonderful beta. <3  
And a big thank you to all of you, who are still reading this!!<3


	5. Scars

Bristlecone pines stood tall against the darkness; branches reaching to their neighbor, weaving a thick canopy above Kyle’s head. The midnight sky would have been almost invisible, were it not for the silver moonbeam peeking through the dense foliage. The further Kyle walked into the woods, the harder it became to breathe, to orientate himself, to feel alive. Little branches and pine needles cracked under Kyle’s unsteady steps. The boy kept his hands in front of him, trusting his other senses more than his eyesight. 

He had lost sight of the main trail long ago - a footpath that went from the town directly to the McCormicks’ household. One moment it was there and the next it was not, as if a spirit had blown it away gently and covered it with soft earth. Had it been midday, Kyle wouldn’t have gotten lost himself so easily - he knew that trail like the back of his hand, after all. He couldn’t even count the number of times he’d been to Kenny’s house. But it was too dark, despite the bright full moon. The woods seemed to feed on those silver rays, engulfing them whole into their dark embrace. 

He was not drunk - not anymore. All his senses had sharpened in his quest to get back on the main trail. He was sure - one hundred percent, in fact - that Kenny’s house had to be closeby. Nevertheless, he needed to find that path, or he would end up running around in circles. 

Bushes shivered next to him. An owl hooted its sad lament. An animal peeked out from its hole, but it was gone before Kyle could assess what it was. 

“Damn it!” Kyle exclaimed, hectically glancing around but seeing nothing but trees. “Maybe I should go back the way I came from. Yeah, that would be a great idea, _Kahl_, but guess what? I can’t even tell left from right in this damn darkness. How the fuck do the McCormicks live here?!” 

In the silence that surrounded him, the sound of his own voice was incredibly comforting. If only he could call Kenny to tell him where he was, instead of groping around in the dark like an idiot. If only Kenny had a cellphone Kyle could call…. “I should buy him one for his birthday, and I don’t care if he’s gonna bitch about it!” Kyle told the woods around him. “It’s unbelievable that there are people who don’t have a fucking cellphone in this century. Oh shit! That’s right! I could use my phone as a torch!”

Frantically, Kyle patted his costume down in search of his smartphone, letting out a triumphant cry when his fingers brushed against the cold plastic case. Cocky smile on his lips, he swiped his index finger over the screen incessantly until he switched the flashlight mode on. 

“Great.” Kyle grimaced. His impromptu flashlight proved to be useless. Just like moonlight, the feeble glow emanating from his phone dissipated into the darkness, only managing to illuminate Kyle’s shoes and the pine needles under them. “Well, it’s better than nothing.” 

Silence was his only answer. He stepped forwards. 

It was impossible to say whether he was walking back towards the starting point, or going further into the woods. Worse still, the little noises made by frantic animals - so overwhelming mere minutes before - slowly grew dimmer the more he walked. No owl hooted; no mouse peeked out of his hole. A branch snapped in two and Kyle couldn’t tell if it was his doing, or somebody else’s. 

When a creak followed the snap - so loud it was impossible to pin on a small animal- Kyle whipped around and flashed his phone towards the trees. 

“Hello?”

Silence and darkness. Oppressive. Terrifying. There was nothing there, nothing but trees and fallen branches and pinecones and dirt. Loose soil. Weird footprints. Signs of digging? No. Kyle was losing his mind. There was nothing but earth. Animal tracks. Erratic. Just like his heart. Branches snapped. No. He was dreaming it. Kyle didn’t see anything; didn’t hear anything. 

He swung his phone around. The battery was on 25%. He didn’t have a lot of time. No signal. He couldn’t call home. His mom would have handled this better. Damn, even Ike would have kept a cool head in this situation. Suddenly, Kyle was overwhelmed by the need to see them. Right now, right here. 

“Fuck.” Was he going to have to spend the whole night here?! Alone. Alone, just like Cartman might have felt when the killer found him. But oh no. Cartman had his mom, at least. Kyle could picture her trying to save her son with all the strength her weak arms could master. “Fuck.”

23%. The battery was depleting fast. He needed to go back and soon. The night was getting chillier and - ! 

Just like a deer caught in headlights, Kyle froze. Something silver flashed against the light of his phone. He took a tentative step towards it. Breath catching (or was it getting frantic? He had no idea), Kyle kneeled down in the dirt and swept the leaves away. 

His cry drowned out the sound of another branch snapping in two. 

Crawling backwards, Kyle tried to put as much distance as humanly possible between the leaves and himself. His phone slipped from his grasp. The light went off, but not before illuminating the blonde hair on a skinny, pale arm. Fingers extended, trying to grasp a small, silver gun…

Snap. 

Rivulets of sweat dripped into his eyes. Kyle snapped around, letting his gaze wander into the darkness. Something howled. A guttural, deep sound. Close. 

“What was that?!” His voice was shrill, his throat ached - he had cried his lungs out, attracting whatever was lurking in the darkness. Something big. His eyes caught sight of dark chestnut fur. _“Who are you!?”_ Kyle knew perfectly well that his question was ridiculous. _“What are you?!”_

The thing disappeared between the trees with a suffocated growl. Catching the opportunity, Kyle scrambled to his feet and ran towards the silver gun. His fingers were shaking madly. “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck - ” 

For a moment, the moon made its appearance between the branches, illuminating the snout of an animal too big to be a mere wolf. Azure eyes gazed over him curiously as Kyle grabbed the gun and… nothing. Too caught up with staring at the majestic creature in front of him - standing on two feet like a human being, but being anything but - Kyle kept losing his grip on the gun. His palms were sweaty and his fingers kept missing the trigger. 

Kyle stared and stared and stared. The thing didn’t try to attack him. Was it curiosity? Was it the calm before the storm? Was it all just an illusion? Slipping the gun inside his pocket, Kyle lifted his arms up slowly. 

The thing stared and stared and stared. Kyle didn’t try to run away. But it was not an illusion. Long white fangs flashed in the moonlight, a paw raised in the air, and Kyle curled into a ball in defense. Blood spurted, splattering on the trees around him. 

Red followed by blackness. 

***

He felt warm, cradled against someone’s chest. Vision partially blocked by fur, Kyle could discern a faint line of a chin. Everything was blurry and dark around the edges, but that one detail was incredibly vivid - just like in a dream. He reached out for that orange hood to reveal the rest of his savior’s face. It was a dream. Kenny’s smile wavered and disappeared into the darkness. 

***

Fangs. Blood. A monster towering above him. Fire running through the veins of his body. Kyle screamed - a silent sound. The Einstein poster above his bed gazed down at him in wonder. There was the faint scent of his mother’s perfume. But nothing felt as overbearing as the ache across his left arm. The fingers of his right hand reached for the pain and found the raspy texture of a gauze. Blotches of blood spread through the fabric, but the agony was so great that Kyle wanted to tear the bandages apart and dig into his own flesh, get all the boiling hot blood out until he could finally rest in peace.

“Stop.” All of a sudden, two very concerned azure eyes were staring down at him. Kyle dropped his hand and moved his head to meet Kenny’s gaze. “Let it heal.”

“Where am I?” Voice croaky, Kyle closed his eyes and buried himself deeper in his mattress. A hand brushed a strand of red hair away from his forehead. The fire in his arm flickered out, suffocated by tenderness. 

“Home,” Kenny whispered. “You’re going to be okay.”

Kyle opened his eyes just in time to catch Kenny’s lip quiver. “You don’t really believe that.”

“Stop talking.”

“Where is it?”

“There is nothing here,” Kenny said, seemingly ignoring his question. “Now sleep, or your mom is gonna have my head on a silver platter.”

“My mom?” Kyle tried to sit up, but Kenny gently pushed him down and tucked him in. 

“Stop talking at once, Kyle! And _sleep_.”

With that said, Kenny made a move to walk away. Kyle’s hand snapped up to grab the blonde by the arm. Confused azure met terrified green. “I-I don’t want to be alone.”

Swallowing the lump that formed in his throat at the admission, Kyle looked down at his fingers, curled into the fabric of Kenny’s parka. A clear moment of hesitation flashed across Kenny’s face, but it only fuelled Kyle’s determination to convince the other boy to stay with him. The fire was back, and it ached less the closer Kenny stood. Tugging him down, Kyle shuffled away to make room for his friend. 

After a long, heated glance, Kenny finally gave in. “Okay.” He pulled at Kyle’s covers to get into the bed but Kyle stopped him with a click of his tongue. He might have been feverish, his eyesight blurry, but he knew Kenny and he knew that parka hadn’t seen a washing machine since it was brought. Or passed down, or whatever. 

“That parka has dirt on it.” It took all his strength to talk, but Kyle did anyway. He wanted Kenny near, now more than ever, but not with that thing on. The provocative stare he got in return didn’t put him off. On the contrary. 

And Kenny sighed. “I am not taking my parka off.”

Kyle stared at him in disbelief. Kenny held his gaze for a moment.

“Do you want to see me naked that much, huh?”

Kyle’s strength to reply abandoned him. He cradled his aching arm and curled into a ball. A whimper left his lips. Damn. Kyle had never wanted to show pain. 

“Damn.” Kenny’s whisper was a caress across his cheek. 

Pulling the zipper down, Kenny dropped his jacket on the floor, revealing just a tank top underneath. Kyle opened his mouth, ready to scold him about walking around so lightly dressed, but stopped himself. There was something about Kenny that caught him unaware. When the last rays of the moon seeped through his closed curtains, Kyle understood what it was. 

As Kenny laid down next to him, grumbling about how he was too good for this world and how dare Kyle boss him around just because of his wound, Kyle fixed his gaze on the lines all over Kenny’s hands and torso. 

His ears were buzzing. Aching and in dire need of sleep, Kyle couldn’t rule out the possibility he was dreaming it all. The ache in his arm was back, stronger than ever, but Kyle willed himself to keep still. As if he moved, the silver lines adorning Kenny’s body would vanish into thin air. And they did, once the moonlight wasn’t shining on them directly. 

“What’s wrong?”

Moving his finger tentatively upwards, Kyle trailed a long line that went from Kenny’s jugular to the edge of his temple, where a small silver circle played hide and seek between blonde strands - small as the barrel of a gun. 

“Kyle?”

Kyle traced that line with his finger, surprised that it didn’t feel any different to the rest of Kenny’s skin. It was definitely not scar tissue. 

_“Kyle?”_

“Hmm?” The redhead dragged him gaze up, towards Kenny’s concerned, _terrified_ face. Immediately, he dropped his hand and hid it under the pillow. 

“Are you feeling okay?” As if to avoid Kenny’s question, Kyle closed his eyes again. He shivered when the other moved closer, placing a comforting hand on Kyle’s wounded shoulder. “Does it hurt?”

“No.” Kyle managed to say, mouth feeling mossy. “Not anymore.” 

He couldn’t recall how he got Kenny to spoon him, but he didn’t mind the comfort. He welcomed the arms with their silver veins, sliding around his torso. Their previous conversation held no importance and disappeared from his memory. Silence fell over them, and Kyle made a hasty retreat to the land of the sleeping. 

***

When he woke up again, the sun was blazing into his room. He shot a disappointed glance at his open window and pulled himself up into a sitting position. The dried blood on his gauze was the only proof that the night before had not been a dream. Stroking a hand up and down his arm, Kyle realized with a start that the pain had completely vanished. On the one hand, Kyle wanted to tear the gauze away and see what lay underneath. On the other hand, he knew it would be better to just let it be. 

“Kenny…?” 

He turned towards the right side of his bed, but all he saw were crumpled sheets. His own side was damp with sweat. Scowling, he made a half-hearted attempt at getting out of bed when his door quietly clicked open. 

“You awake?”

Kyle never thought he would ever be so happy to see Ike. Disregarding the way his brother was studying him, Kyle pushed himself out of bed. His legs didn’t obey him. They buckled under him, forcing him back onto the mattress. 

“Fuck.” Ike was by his side in an instant. With uncharacteristic tenderness, his brother tucked him back in, right before shooting the gauze on Kyle’s arm a worried look. “You shouldn’t move. I’m gonna call mom, dipshit. She’s been worried sick.”

“I’m fine,” Kyle croaked, batting Ike’s hand away. 

_“Fine._” Sarcastic smile on his lips, Ike shook his head. “You’ve been out cold for three days! Stan got such a scolding, it’s a miracle mom hasn’t sentenced him to death herself!”

“Stan?” Kyle echoed, arching his eyebrows in surprise. “What’s wrong with Stan?”

“Did the blow mess your memory up, Kyle?” Ike asked, eyes narrowing into suspicious slits. “I have no idea what you two fought over, but you must have insulted him pretty badly for him to hit you so hard you went comatose.”

“Stan…” A deep crease formed between Kyle’s eyebrows. Ike sighed. He walked across the room to pull the office chair next to Kyle’s bed. 

“So that wasn’t how you got those wounds, was it?” Ike asked, staring him down with a piercing gaze. Kyle gulped. A monster lurking in the darkness flashed behind his eyelids. Fangs. A silver gun. Blonde hair caressed by soft wind. No. He couldn’t tell Ike any of this. He would never believe him. 

“Kenny brought you back home three days ago,” Ike said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Said you got into a fight with him during the party at the Blacks. Next day, Stan drops by to check up on you and confesses it was his own doing, that Kenny is just covering up for him. Kenny objects, Stan gets more stubborn, mom shouts at them both for almost giving you a concussion. Stan takes most of the scolding, though.” 

“Ah.” For the first time in his life, Kyle had no idea what to say. Ike’s stare became even sharper. 

“Did you get into a fight with Stan, Kyle?”

Kyle snuggled into his sheets and pointedly looked out the window. He heard Ike sigh. 

“You know what, it doesn’t matter…” The office chair creaked under Ike’s weight. “But at least you could have told me you and Kenny were a thing.”

That got Kyle’s attention. He snapped his head fast enough to almost add a cervical injury to his list of wounds. Ike’s expression was strangely sheepish. 

“That’s BS and you know it,” Kyle said, feeling the blood rush up his neck. 

“I would believe you if I hadn’t seen you two sleeping together like mating octopuses.” Ike’s tone was teasing, but the underlying embarrassment from bringing the topic up didn’t go unnoticed by Kyle. “I thought you were straight as an arrow. But I guess after Rebecca…”

Kyle had no idea what Rebecca had to do with this conversation. Sighing in frustration, he pushed himself up once again. 

“Jesus,” Kyle said, jaw clenched in sudden anger. “We were not sleeping like mating octopuses.”

Ike’s brows touched the base of his hairline. He ran his tongue over his front teeth and laughed. “Whatever you say, brother dear.”

“Oh my God, I just-!” Kyle shouted before biting his lip and crossing his arms over his chest. “We were not sleeping like mating octopuses.” 

“Fiiiine,” Ike drawled, snickering. “You are not answering the question, though.”

“Which is?” Kyle snapped.

“Are you two like…” Ike moved his right hand up and formed a circle with his thumb and index. Slowly, he moved his left index finger next to it and - !

“No!” Kyle shouted, pushing Ike with so much force that his brother almost fell to the floor. Drying legit tears from his eyes, Ike stood up from the office chair and patted Kyle’s hair. 

“Tell me you got in a fight with Stan because he got in the middle of a love triangle.”

“Will you drop that??” 

“Honestly, I thought you and Stan…”

“STOP IT!”

_“What is going on over there?!” _

Ike and Kyle snapped their mouths shut. Swift as lighting, Ike rolled the office chair back to its place by the desk and Kyle pulled at his sheets until no crease was visible. The door to his room slammed open and Sheila appeared by the doorframe, staring at them as if she was ready to ground them into the next century.

“Ike! I told you to call me as soon as Kyle woke up!” Sheila shouted. She then quickly walked over to Kyle’s bed and pinched her eldest son’s arm. “You made me worry sick! What’s gotten into you two?! I thought you and Stan were friends! What did you do to rile him up so much?”

_“I didn’t do anything!!”_

Sheila growled and sat down heavily on Kyle’s bed. She shot him yet another angry look, and then her face softened into a worried expression. 

“I am so glad you woke up,” she said and brought him in for a bone-crushing hug. Kyle muffled a complaint against her chest, but melted into that embrace immediately after. His mother’s scent filled his nostrils. The monster couldn’t touch him anymore. Not now that his mother was there. 

***

Kyle started growing more restless by the second the moment Sheila and Ike left him to his own devices. Going completely against what his mother recommended (which was to sleep until the doctor came to check on him), Kyle got out of bed and went on a frantic search for the jacket he had been wearing the night all his certainties tumbled down like a castle made of cards. 

He found the jacket in question, tossed at the foot of his bed like a rag of no importance. But no matter how many times he dug through the pockets, the thing that Kyle was really interested in was nowhere to be seen. Panic sent bile rising in his throat. He prayed that Sheila had not confiscated the gun, or worse, that Ike had somehow found it. His brother was smart - he would ask questions Kyle didn’t want to give any answers to. Dangerous questions that would raise doubts about Kyle’s mental stability - or lack thereof.

The thing, the monster, whatever it was, must remain a secret until he was one hundred percent certain of what they were dealing with. 

He searched inside his closet and opened all the drawers. Finally, as a last resort, he considered looking under the bed, in case it had slipped out his jacket’s pocket and ended up there. It sounded ridiculous, even to him, especially considering it must have been Kenny who had taken his jacket off and... Well. A gun couldn’t just silently slither away like a damned snake. The sound of it hitting the floor would have been impossible to ignore. 

And so, he got on all fours and peeked into the darkness under his bed. And - surprise, surprise! - there was the gun, barrel staring at him like a black, hollow eye. 

Kyle was still trying to reach it when Stan appeared. Without knocking, Stan opened the door and let out an incredulous “ugh” at the sight of Kyle presenting his ass to him in all its glory. Cursing, Kyle promptly forgot about the gun and twisted around. 

“Fuck.” Kyle sat down on the floor, wiping his hands on his pajama pants. “Stan! What the - !”

“I don’t want to know,” Stan interrupted, massaging his temples. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder before carefully closing the door behind him. “Ike let me in. Your mom forbade me from coming over since, well, you know…” Furrowing his eyebrows, Kyle watched as Stan took a seat on the floor in front of him. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good,” was Kyle’s quick answer. Stan shot him a dubious look, but dropped the question that so obviously hung on the tip of his tongue. He set his eyes on Kyle’s gauze instead, now a bright white against Kyle’s rosy complexion. The redhead followed his gaze and immediately made a grab for the sheets behind him to cover his shoulders up. 

With a sigh, Stan caught Kyle’s eyes again. “Will you tell me what really happened?”

“Why don’t you tell me why you took the blame first?” Kyle asked, staring at his friend with a mixture of awe and curiosity. 

Stan shrugged. “Kenny called me, told me you two got in a fight…” Kyle prompted him to continue with a nod. “Granted, I know Kenny is strong enough to K.O. someone with just one hit, but dude, I don’t believe he would ever hurt you. Intentionally.” At that, Kyle stayed completely immobile and silent, so Stan continued: “I’m worried about you.” Stan’s sincerity caught Kyle completely unaware. “This Cartman thing is stressing you out, I can see that. You’re acting weird… and Kenny is the only one you’re trusting right now, for who-knows-what reason. I know you would never, ever get in a fight with him, not when he’s the only one who believes you saying something’s fishy with Cartman’s… well his _murder_. I took the blame because _I know_ that no one would believe that you two had fought, either. And if something is going on with you two, _I know_ you wouldn’t want people to ask questions. Our friendship is on thin ice right now, Kyle. You know that, everybody knows that, even your mother knows that! People won’t give a damn if the two of us had a fight.” 

Kyle tugged the sheets tighter around himself. He let the silence linger before he finding the courage to speak again. “Yeah, it wasn’t him.”

“Kyle,” Stan said, stare pointed. “What happened that night? You just ran off! Were you mauled? Kidnapped? Raped?” Stan’s eyes grew wider with each question, but Kyle waved him off impatiently. “So? What the hell happened, dude? You were out cold for three days! Kenny didn’t want to leave your side!” 

“Kenny?” He heard himself ask. Then, as if in regret, Kyle shook his head. “Even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

With a resentful scowl, Stan stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Why don’t you try?” 

“Stan…”

“No, Kyle. I’m sick and tired of this, alright?” Stan snapped angrily. “I haven’t the freakiest clue what’s up with you! For fuck’s sake, you were in a coma for three fucking days!” 

Kyle swallowed the lump in his throat. Stan’s eyes were bright and wide. Panting slightly, Stan tugged his hands out of his pockets to clench and unclench his fingers. Kyle licked his lips. 

“Promise me you won’t freak out.”

“Were you raped?”

“No, but… just sit down, alright?”

And Stan did. Kyle sighed. 

“After the party, I went searching for Kenny.”

“That’s old news,” Stan said, irritated. “What else?”

Looking down at his shaking hands, Kyle proceeded to tell him the whole story, starting from the B&E in Cartman’s house and ending with Kenny’s rescue. He didn’t dare to cross Stan’s face; his gasps and swearwords were all Kyle needed to be sure Stan was hanging to his every word. Describing the monster was the most difficult part. The whole thing sounded weird to his own ears too.

When Kyle was done with his narrative, Stan took a couple of minutes to process the whole story. 

“Dude, that’s - !”

“Pretty unreal, yeah,” Kyle spat, irritated. “Listen, you don’t need to believe me.”

“I fucking do, man. I just… are you sure it was Butters?”

Kyle shot him a disbelieving look. “After all I told you, that’s what you get hung up on??”

“Butters is dead!” Stan screeched, voice breaking. The declaration felt like a slap to Kyle’s face. Once more, the picture of that hand reaching out towards the gun flashed across his mind’s eye and sent a shiver down his spine. 

“Yeah.”

“We should tell the police.”

“No.”

“But Kyle!”

“No.” Kyle shook his head with vigor. “Me finding the body would lead to the police asking more questions about my wound, and that would send me to the closest mental facility faster than you can say Jack Robinson.”

“Shit.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Kyle turned his back on Stan to lie down and reach under his bed again. Fingers finding the barrel of the gun, he carefully pulled it into view. 

“Is that…?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

Kyle looked down at the gun. Then, jaw clenching in determination, gave it to Stan. 

“Keep it for me.”

Stan stared at him as if he had lost his marbles. “Are you outta your mind?”

“If my mom finds it, I am dead,” Kyle said. “It’s Jimbo’s stuff, so you can always blame him if your parents dig around in your drawers and find it. You’re safe. Your mom has never been the nosy type and your dad…”

“I get it.” Stan reached for the gun and carefully hid it in his bomber jacket. “Does Kenny know about it?”

“No.”

“Will you tell him?”

A moment of hesitation. “No. I am only trusting you with this.”

Stan’s eyes went as wide as saucers and Kyle’s heart skipped a beat at that expression of utter incredulity. 

“So, we’re good?” Stan asked.

The corners of Kyle’s lips tugged slowly upwards. 

“We’re good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, LWTIS, for the wonderful beta. <3  
And a big thank you to all of you, who are still reading this!!<3


	6. Red and blue

“Where to?” 

Kyle shifted his gaze from the jacket in his hands to Ike, who was lounging idly against the doorframe, munching on a bag of chocolate cookies without a care in the world. With mild irritation, Kyle watched a single chocolate chip fall from Ike’s mouth, straight onto the carpet - and Ike not doing anything about it. But, _of course_. Since it was Kyle’s stinky-teenage-boy room, who cared about crumbs, right? Mom was going to blame Kyle for that, anyway. 

“Cat got your tongue, Ky? Where are you going?”

“Out.” Tone brusque, Kyle slipped into his jacket and zipped it up. 

Ike arched his eyebrows at his seemingly blasé answer. “Mom wouldn’t approve. Your wound has yet to heal.”

“Well, Mom isn’t here right now, is she?” Kyle asked with an exasperated sigh. He then tried to storm out, only to be halted by Ike’s long leg across the doorway. Annoyed, Kyle tried to climb over it, but Ike just lifted his leg higher. _Ugh_. “I’m not in the mood for games, Ike!”

Unimpressed, Ike wiped his chocolate-stained mouth with the back of his hand and pushed Kyle back inside. “I need to talk to you first. Then you’re free to go to your BF and do I-don’t-care what.”

“Kenny is not my boyfriend,” Kyle snapped. Despite his harsh tone, he allowed his brother to push him backwards and into his office chair, Ike snickering when he plopped down with a loud ‘oof’. 

“BF stands for ‘best friend' too, brother dear,” Ike taunted him, sitting down on Kyle’s bed with a smug little smile. “Funny how ‘boyfriend’ is the first word that came to your mind.”

“Spit it out. What is it?” Cheeks red, Kyle crossed his arms, and Ike’s expression turned from teasing to serious in a heartbeat. 

“I have news.”

Eyebrows raised, Kyle leaned forwards and rested his elbows on his thighs, expectant. Ike’s face was a tense mask of composure and it didn’t suit him at all. It made all of Kyle’s hair stand on end. 

“Good news? Bad news?” 

“Bad news and… bad news,” Ike said, holding Kyle’s gaze firmly with his own.

“You hacked the police?” 

“Pfft. Child’s play.”

“And?”

Ike let out a deep sigh. “The Slenderman thing was just a cover-up.” 

_“I knew it!”_ Kyle shot up from his chair, slamming his fist on his desk. Ike snorted.

“Yeah, don’t go tasting victory just yet. They know something stinks, but they can’t pinpoint where exactly the stench comes from. That’s all they got on this case.”

“But couldn’t they just say that from the get-go?” Kyle scowled. “Why bring up the Slenderman?”

Ike shrugged, nonchalant. “I have my theories, but they hold no importance right now. And anyways, this did all come from _Yates’_ report.”

Kyle couldn’t object to that. 

“So, what else is there?”

“There is one tiny little detail in the coroner’s report that they are foolishly turning a blind eye to,” Ike continued. He paused, as if savoring the suspense. “The Cartmans were missing their hearts.”

The revelation took Kyle completely by surprise. He blinked at Ike, hoping for some explanation, but the younger teen just leaned back against the headboard nonchalantly and crossed his legs over Kyle’s duvet. Something in the back of Kyle’s brain screamed at him, begged to be remembered. Snippets of his childhood rushed through his mind’s eye, too fast to be enlightening. All they left was an annoying feeling in his stomach, a tingle on the tip of his tongue, the frustration that came from his inability to connect the dots.

Ike remained uncharacteristically silent. Folding his hands above his head, he watched Kyle with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. 

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Kyle asked, suddenly uneasy under Ike’s searching stare.

“Not in this case, no.” All of Kyle’s senses piqued at that. With yet another sigh, Ike elaborated: “They found Butters Stotch.”

Kyle’s stomach dropped. “What do you mean, ‘found’?”

“I mean dead,” was Ike’s direct, cold answer. “His head was smashed in.”

Kyle’s heart started pounding. Fast. Faster. Racing.

“H-how…?”

“Hell if I know. It could have been a hammer, a baseball bat, a boulder - !”

“No, I meant - how did they find him?” Kyle interrupted, trying to keep himself from gagging. Ike’s quizzical expression did nothing to relieve his nausea. 

“They decided to expand their search area to the forest two days ago. A police dog tracked his scent.” 

“Oh.”

“You don’t seem particularly surprised that Stotch is dead.” 

Lost for words, Kyle spun around in his chair to face the wall. One thought pulsed against his skull, loud and piercing like a security alarm, making him dangerously light-headed. His phone. His phone was still in the forest, right next to Butters’ body. If the police found him, then his phone was in their hands already. They were going to interrogate him, convinced that Kyle had something to do with Butters’ murder. And how was he going to explain that Butters was not killed by a man, but by something horrible, _inhuman?_ A monster that walked like a human being but was anything but? Something that had tried to kill Kyle too? Fangs flashing in the moonlight. Paw raised. Claws. Claws. Blood. 

“Kyle?”

But maybe Kyle was getting ahead of himself again. There was no proof that thing was the cause of Butters’ death. Maybe the fact that Butters decided to head into the woods was a coincidence. Maybe whatever killed Butters was a man acting in self-defense. Butters did have a gun with him. No. Butters didn’t buy that gun to kill a monster. Why would he? Why would he willingly hunt down a thing twice as tall as himself? Thrice as strong? But was the monster that tall, really? Was it that strong, really? Was it all in Kyle’s head? Monsters didn’t exist. Jimbo’s words rung in his mind, loud and clear. _I have all kinds of weapons to protect ourselves from such kind._ Monsters did exist. Kyle could attest to that - and now that the police had his phone, he had to. His wound was proof of it. Of blood. Of claws. Of fangs flashing in the moonlight. 

“Kyle!”

Realizing that Ike was in his personal space and shaking his shoulders, the redhead took a deep breath to calm himself down. 

“You okay?” Ike carefully studied Kyle’s face. “I’m sorry. I should have been more tactful.”

His brother’s voice rang uncharacteristically distant, as if coming from across the room. Kyle glanced up towards him - Ike was growing taller by the day, the bastard - and nodded, hoping the gesture looked reassuring enough. 

“I’m okay.” Kyle’s voice came out croaky. “I was just…” He searched for the right words to convey his emotions, but nothing came to mind. Ike gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze. Then, as if feeling awkward for showing kindness to his own brother, promptly made a beeline for the door. 

At the doorstep, he hesitated. 

Uncomprehending, Kyle watched him kneel and pick up a chocolate chip from the carpet. Ike was stalling for time. With his broad shoulders, he possessed the physique of someone who could be the next big basketball player - something Kyle had always envied, and that Ike never cared for. Yet, despite their differences, Kyle recognized a determination so similar to his own in the tension along Ike’s arms. 

“Should I keep looking?” 

And in that moment, Kyle knew that something had clearly caught Ike’s attention and that he was going to stop at nothing to get to the bottom of it. All of Kyle’s alarm bells started ringing. There it was again: that terrible sense of foreboding. An internal conflict reared its head. Minutes passed. Logic lost. Curiosity took over. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Have fun with your BF.”

Kyle didn’t have the strength for a comeback, and Ike disappeared without another word. 

When Kyle finally left the house, he found Kenny waiting for him in the front yard. Hidden in his oversized parka, hands shoved deep into his front pockets, the blonde was staring at the blue sky above in utter fascination. Kyle cleared his throat to catch his attention, steps staggering as Kenny brightened up the moment their eyes met. The happiness in those azure eyes, however, was quickly replaced by uncertainty and a hint of guilt that Kyle had no idea how to interpret. Unsure, Kyle let Kenny’s gaze wander all over his face and down to his wounded arm, now well-protected by many layers of clothes.

“Err…” Strangely at a loss for words, Kyle tensed up as Kenny swiftly walked right into his personal space. 

Being carefully examined, as if he were a chunk of gold, sent a weird twist through Kyle’s guts. Throat dry and heart about to explode, Kyle let his tongue trace an awkward path along his upper lip in an attempt to help him regain some control over his emotions. The innocent gesture seemed to shake Kenny out of his reverie. Suddenly, he took a huge step backwards - grin wide and all guilt gone from his face. 

“I’m happy to see you in top shape.”

‘Happy’ was an understatement. Kenny was _radiant_; his smile so bright it made Kyle’s heart ache. Kyle had no idea he could be the source of such happiness. It pooled in the pit of his stomach, making him feel weak. First Ike, now Kenny. Everyone was treating him like a delicate flower, and it felt fucking weird. Undeserving at best. 

Shaking it off, Kyle squared his shoulders. He was by no means a delicate flower. He was _fine_. He survived and he needed to flaunt it. “What’s up?” He hoped the nonchalant tone would be proof enough of how fucking fine he felt. 

Kenny didn’t seem to give a damn about Kyle’s internal struggles. With a soft smile on his lips, Kenny fumbled through his pockets and handed Kyle something that looked very familiar. 

“I just wanted to give this back to you.” 

It took Kyle a minute to realize he was holding his phone. Shaking, he carefully grabbed it from Kenny’s grasp and stared at the cracked screen. 

“Where did you find it?”

“In the woods. When I found you.”

Kyle’s eyes snapped to Kenny’s face, but he couldn’t deduce anything from his suddenly closed-off expression. Had Kenny seen the body? Why wasn’t he saying anything about Butters? He must have seen him. Butters was there. Right next to Kyle’s phone. 

“After everything that happened, I kinda forgot to give it to you sooner,” Kenny continued with a shrug. 

“Well… thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Running a finger over the cracks on the screen, Kyle pondered over his next question. Kenny felt impossibly near, yet frustratingly far. Asking about Butters would only make it more awkward, and right now, all Kyle wanted was to keep Kenny close. 

“How did you find me?”

Kenny scoffed. He shot a knowing look at the house behind them and arched his eye-brows. “You… live here?”

“Cut the crap.” Kyle shoved him playfully, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips when Kenny chuckled. “I meant that day, that night, whatever.” 

Kenny didn’t answer immediately. Kicking a pebble with his worn-out sneakers, Kenny shot a quick glance over his shoulder before focusing his gaze on Kyle again.

“I heard screaming.” Fascinated, Kyle’s eyes followed the way Kenny’s Adam apple moved around the words. “You were not far from my house.”

“How did you save me? Did you…” Again, doubt and shame prevented him from finishing the sentence. Kenny seemed to understand anyway. Or not. His answer was not what Kyle expected. 

“…give you mouth to mouth?” Kenny asked, staring at him in disbelief from under half-lidded eyes, voice charged with emotion. “I hope you’re not going to throw a fuss over that, Kyle, because I had no idea what else to do! You were lying there, in a pool of blood. Not breathing!” Kenny’s expression twisted into one of pain and anguish, as if he could still see Kyle’s body behind his eyelids - dead, cold, bloody, freezing in the forest. Alone. “I was scared shitless, dude!”

Kyle’s eyebrows furrowed. So Kenny didn’t see it? The monster lurking in the darkness. But did he know about it? Did he get a glimpse of it? Or was everything all in Kyle’s head? 

“A rabid dog.”

“What?” Gobsmacked, Kenny blinked at him. 

Kyle swallowed his pride. 

“I was attacked by a fucking rabid dog.” 

“A dog,” Kenny repeated with a grimace. “And pray tell, what the fuck were you doing in the forest in the middle of the night!?”

“I was searching _for you_!” 

At Kyle’s angry retort, Kenny’s frown quivered. Guilt gave his complexion a nice shade of pale. Kyle _knew_ it was guilt. He had seen it on Kenny once before and it didn’t suit him at all. It happened so long ago, when they fought over something completely silly and Kenny didn’t speak to him for a month. Taciturn Kenny was a normal occurrence. _That_Kenny was an experience Kyle didn’t want to relive ever again. 

Kyle needed to change the subject, and soon. Fighting would get them nowhere. Telling Kenny this wasn’t his fault would get them nowhere. And confessing about the monster would only do so much for his credibility. At that moment, keeping Kenny by his side felt like the most crucial thing to do, essential like breathing. If only he could slow his racing heart on command… 

“Butters…” The name left his lips before he could reconsider. 

“Yes, I know.” To say Kenny’s quick but incredibly soft answer was surprising would be an understatement. Kyle tried to catch his gaze, but Kenny did all he could to hide his face from him. The parka’s fur sure helped him with that. 

“You saw him.”

Kenny sighed. “Yeah, when I was trying to revive you.”

“Revive me…” 

“I thought you were _dead._” Finally, Kenny turned to face him head on, and the sight of his eyes - so bright and watery - was a stab to Kyle’s heart. “I seriously thought I’d lost you.” The last sentence was a soft whisper, so weak Kyle knew he wasn’t supposed to hear it. 

Licking his lips, overwhelmed by Kenny’s openness, Kyle dropped his gaze to their feet. Once again, Kenny was standing so close the tips of their shoes were almost touching. Neither of them tried to move away, as if paralyzed on the spot, like magnets drawn to each other’s poles. 

“Did you tell the police about it?” Kyle asked, staring pointedly at a mud stain of Kenny’s pants. 

“Hmm… about you, you mean?”

“About Butters.”

All of a sudden, Kenny’s shoulders tensed up; the magnetic field shattering. The blonde took a few steps back and one to the side, pulling out of Kyle’s bubble with the grace of a dancer. 

“Well, I had to. His parents deserved to know.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. _Oh._” 

The sarcasm in Kenny’s voice was not lost on Kyle, but at that moment, the wheels in his brain were shifting so fast he couldn’t even be angry about it. Now he knew how the police - so inept and so fucking superstitious - came up with the idea to search into the woods. It made perfect sense. Not knowing what else to say, Kyle shuffled his feet and threw a quick glance at his house, for lack of anything better to do. 

“Anyway, thanks for finding my phone.”

A shrug was all Kenny gave him for an answer. Kyle fidgeted. He felt exhausted, as if they had been playing a round of tug-of-war for three hours straight. He had no idea what to do. To leave? To stay? To say something? And if yes, what? 

“And thanks for bringing me home that night.” 

The memory of Kenny’s arms around him sent a blush crawling up Kyle’s neck. A glance at Kenny’s face confirmed that the blonde too had similar thoughts racing through his mind. Unable to meet each other’s gazes, they both bounced on the balls of their feet for a couple of minutes in awkward silence. 

“Hey. It’s okay.” Kenny started playing with the parka’s cords. He carefully tugged them downwards and the hood closed in on itself, like a clam. “Wanna hang out, or some-thing?”

Kyle snapped to attention. The smile on Kenny’s lips looked nonchalant enough, but Kyle could see right through it. If given the opportunity, Kenny would flee from embarrassment and Kyle sure as hell didn’t want that. 

“I was thinking of going to the library,” Kyle said and fuck, if only he could stop staring at Kenny’s lips while talking, he would be doing himself a favor. Loosening his hood again, Kenny’s smile grew wider and more natural. 

“You just came out of a coma and the first thing you want to do is flip through old tomes?” 

“Some people like to read, Kenny. And before you object, no. Looking at pussies in a Playboy magazine is not considered ‘reading’.” Kyle scoffed at Kenny’s laughter and started walking towards the bus stop, not surprised when Kenny rushed to catch up with him. 

“I thought you wanted to do something fun after your near-death experience.”

“I wasn’t going to die.”

“Not if I had a say on it.” At that, Kyle arched an eyebrow, and Kenny rolled his eyes. “_Come on_. Can we go to the arcade instead? It’s been years. Maybe Stan can tag along too and be all ‘_I am too old for this stuff!_’ and ruin all the fun. Fuck, I miss those days!” 

Kyle considered it. “Fine, but I need to do this first.” Kenny huffed. “It’s not going to take long, I promise.”

“I’ve watched you read before, Kyle,” Kenny said, sliding an arm around his shoulders. “If you’d had books to read in your comatose state, you would have been K.O. for much longer.”

The bark of laughter that came out of Kyle’s throat was completely uncalled for - in Kyle’s opinion. 

***

The first thing that Kyle noticed when they stepped into the library was that it was empty, save for a few high schoolers fooling around at one of the tables. The fact there was no one else there, besides them, made it easier to spot the librarian - snapping to attention the moment they set foot in the room. The woman, who couldn’t have been older than fifty, dressed completely in pink down to her vibrant pink nails, observed them with piercing eyes. There was a moment - those few seconds that took her to place one of the books in its rightful place on the shelf - before Kyle decided that he was just imagining things. Her casualness was just more evidence to his fervid imagination. Under Kyle’s attentive stare, the librarian picked another book, walked down the aisle, put it in its place and walked back to the trolley she was pushing around - not before she fixed her blond bun with an irritated wave of her hand. No, Kyle was wrong. She was just your typical, nitpicky librarian. 

Just as they headed to the computers, however, the librarian’s eyes were back on them. There was no denying it. She was indeed observing them. But who exactly? Kenny or him? He started typing; she pushed the trolley towards another aisle. Kenny asked him what he was searching for; the librarian paused. The high schoolers laughed; the librarian shushed them. Kyle opened a new tab to Google; the librarian wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. 

This monster was making him paranoid. Glancing back towards Kenny, he was surprised to see him glaring openly at the librarian. It took him a solid second to realize the two were locked in some kind of staring contest. As time passed, the more they both seemed determined to win it. So… he wasn’t being paranoid, after all?

“Is something wrong?” Kyle asked, arching an eyebrow towards the old woman and her deep frown. Kenny didn’t answer immediately. “You know her?” He prodded the blonde with his elbow, but all he got in response was an irritated growl.

“Barbie girl is making me feel uneasy,” Kenny said, finally snapping out of his reverie. He laughed, but it sounded wrong and hollow. “I bet she wants to fuck me. You know what? I’ll wait for you in Tweek Bros. Take your time, I don’t mind.”

Frown deepening further, Kyle shot Kenny a worried look. Tweek Bros. Coffeeshop was just around the corner, but there was also a cafeteria right on the second floor and Kyle couldn’t understand why Kenny couldn’t wait for him there instead. It was as if Kenny wanted to put as much distance between himself and the librarian as possible. Usually, Kenny wouldn’t mind being eye candy for the ladies. 

“I won’t take long,” Kyle reassured him, but Kenny was out of the library before he could finish his sentence. Suddenly alone and very much confused, Kyle resumed his re-search – mildly irritated that the librarian suddenly seemed more interested in her books now that she managed to drive Kenny away. He messed around for a while, typing random words on the keyboard and hoping to catch the librarian’s gaze again. Nothing. The blonde just went about her business, and Kyle returned to his investigation with a deep sigh. 

He tried Google first, but it had nothing new to offer him. Going through the library’s search tool, however, there were indeed some books that looked promising enough. Aisle 18. 

For a town that obsessed so much over the supernatural, the library was fairly devoid of books on mystical creatures. He found a couple of old newspapers with an article or two concerning the weird stuff going on in the forest surrounding South Park, a children’s book about fairies and how not to get lost in the woods, and a ton of papers about how the fantasy world of Hogwarts could be a fun place to live in, if it weren’t… for ManBearPig. Kyle rolled his eyes so hard at the author’s name that he almost gave himself a headache. He moved past Al Gore’s series and focused on some old tomes instead, seemingly untouched since their publication. 

One in particular caught his eye. Running a finger over the book’s worn spine, Kyle read the author’s name over and over again until he was sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. He tugged the book out of its place and coughed when dust snuck into his throat and nostrils.

“A guide to supernatural creatures, by Gideon L. Biggle,” Kyle read out loud. Without taking his eyes off the book, he walked back to one of the empty tables to study it carefully. 

Gideon Leonard Biggle, born 1876 in South Park, Colorado, disappeared under mysterious circumstances in 1929 during one of his scientific expeditions in the Bermuda Triangle. Famous supernatural researcher Jans Zilvinas praised him as the most important author of our times. ‘A guide to supernatural creatures’ is his last book, redacted by his daughter Evelyn Biggle, using unpublished notes written during his various expeditions. 

Kyle scoffed. Once upon a time, he wouldn’t have given this book a second glance. Now, the situation was completely different. He still hoped there was some scientific explanation for what he saw in the forest, but he wouldn’t be surprised anymore if there wasn’t. He opened the book to the first page and ran a finger along the index. There was a chapter for every creature in existence: fairies, goblins, leprechauns, Kushtakas, phoenixes, yowies… Kyle didn’t dwell on any of them. Strictly focused on his task, Kyle skimmed through the book until he finally found what he was searching for. 

_Chapter XVIII: Lycanthropes._

The drawing of the creature, wolf-like but not exactly, sent a shiver down his spine. It looked fairly different from the images he had scrolled through on Google and much more similar to the thing he’d seen with his own two eyes. A drop of sweat rolled over his left eyebrow, and Kyle wiped it off before it could fall onto the page. Suddenly grateful to the librarian for driving Kenny away, he proceeded to read: 

_Not many have claimed to have seen such a majestic creature, and if they did, they were either lying [1] or, such as myself, found a way to approach them without get-ting killed in the process. For hunting a lycanthrope is a dangerous task, one that I would warmly advise against. […] These creatures appear only during the full moon [2] and are completely innocuous during the rest of the lunar calendar. _

Kyle sighed. It looked like a bunch of bullshit that only people believing in Man-BearPig would fall for. Still, there was no doubt he had seen one and almost got mauled in the process. If it hadn’t been for Kenny, he would have died of blood loss next to Butters’ corpse. With that thought in mind, Kyle decided to keep reading, skipping the most boring historical parts and searching for something that could actually help him under-stand what he was dealing with. 

_You must understand, it is unwise to try killing a lycanthrope during the full moon [49,50]. They are strong and fast, and your hand must be steady, for the silver bullet must pass through their cranium in order to kill them. A hit to the heart or any other body part has proven useless, a painful wound that only serves to irate the lycanthrope more. Lycanthropes cannot be killed with anything that is not silver-made. [50] If you are unwise enough, stabbing one through the eyes with a silver dagger would prove to be effective. […] According to current findings, silver bullets should be your weapon of choice. Though I don’t see the reason why you should go to such lengths, as they are a pacific species at any other time of the day and night. If you must, and luck is on your side, then find the lycanthrope in its human form. _

Kyle snorted. He looked out of the window, up at the grey sky over the forest. Musing over Biggle’s words, Kyle could only reach one conclusion: Butters bought a gun with sil-ver bullets and walked into the woods to kill a monster. Unluckily for him, it got to him first and smashed his head in before Butters could pose a real threat. Kyle now knew the fear such an encounter could provoke firsthand, but he could only imagine the thoughts that had run through Butters’ mind - small, cowardly Butters - when the monster had loomed over him. 

Shivering, Kyle flipped back to the start of the chapter and stared at the drawing of the creature. Its fangs and bloodstained eyes, rendered in loving detail, made his intestines churn. Why did Butters decide to go up against it? What triggered him to do it? Was it revenge? And if yes, then why? And if not, then why?

_“Butters didn’t go hunting on a full moon on purpose. The question you are not seeing is this, Kyle: Why?”_

Why, why, why. Henrietta’s words rang in his brain like an ambulance siren. 

Why hadn’t Butters gone hunting on a full moon? 

“Because Butters _knew_,” Kyle whispered, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white. Butters didn’t go hunting on a full moon because he knew he was dealing with a werewolf. He’d probably read that very same book and for some reason Kyle couldn’t comprehend, Butters had known who the monster was and decided to con-front it in its human form. Why? Because your best chance of killing it was when it was still human. Butters had somehow figured out its identity and lured the lycanthrope into the forest. Butters had not seen the monster. Kyle had. Because Kyle had ventured into the forest during the full moon. Not Butters. 

Butters ventured into the forest to kill a _man_.

There was no other explanation. 

Suddenly feverish, Kyle went through the text again, much more attentive this time. 

_Even in my charming hometown, in my dear South Park, lycanthropes have been sighted […] The McCormick family, who have been this town’s protectors for generations, know more about the supernatural than any other researcher I know. Adolf McCormick had been my first recipient when it came to the following information about lycanthrope hunting through the ages. _

Adolf McCormick? A relative of Kenny, perhaps? Shaking his head, Kyle kept reading. 

_A very interesting theory I have yet to confirm is that no lycanthrope is born without a tamer [43]. According to Mr. McCormick, there is always a family member or a very close friend that is born with the power to control the wolf, which might explain why lycanthrope sightings have been few and far between. As long as the tamer is in close vicinity, the lycanthrope can be kept in check. The tamer and the lycanthrope are generally born in the same year, but a small age gap is not unusual. Despite the books on the matter and Mr. McCormick’s statement, there is no scientific proof of such a phenomenon. Mr. McCormick was uneasy to explain how exactly the tamer always remains in control of the situation. […] Thus, I would rather not classify this information as absolute truth. _

Kyle shook his head and moved on, skipping over the history section again. He searched for anything detailing the effects of an attack and let out a cry of joy when he found it right at the end of the chapter. 

_Now, if you have reached this page and your will to see a lycanthrope has not yet subsided, I feel the dire need to warn you about the imminent consequences. Just like the myths tell us, a lycanthrope’s bite is not something to be taken lightly. There is poison laced through their blood [50] and even a scratch can prove lethal to non-supernatural beings. If the bitten does not die, it is highly probable they will turn into a monster as well. The poison is stored in the heart of the bitten, sending the carrier into a state of apparent-death. [….] This is the reason why I would highly suggest you remove and destroy the heart of the bitten one, if you had the misfortune to witness a lycanthrope attack. It is the only certain method to spare the bitten this unwanted fate. It is possible, and not at all unheard of, that the bitten neither dies nor transforms. [2, 4] This is mostly in the case of tamers [43], but it’s possible for non-supernatural beings as well. These latter cases are rare, and I have yet to encounter someone that can boast such luck. _

With a sigh, Kyle closed the book. He raised his gaze from the table, brows creasing when he caught the librarian watching him carefully. Scowling, he put the book back in its rightful place and shot her an irritated look on his way out. The librarian didn’t pay him any heed. 

Damn. Maybe he _was_ paranoid. 

***

Kyle stepped into Tweek Bros. to find Kenny being coddled by the cute chestnut-haired girl behind the counter. Since Tweak’s abdication from the role, there was a new barista every two weeks (at least). Consequently, Mondays were usually a busy day, due to the majority of South Park gathering in the coffee shop to marvel at the lucky new barista, taking bets on how long they were going to last under Richard Tweek’s supervision. 

It wasn’t as if Mr. Tweek was an insufferable man, on the contrary. If one turned a blind eye on his infamous coffee quotes and his illegal coffee blend manipulations behind closed doors, he could be even called an ‘okay’ man. ‘Okay’ was a stretch, but it was the nicest and most diplomatic adjective Kyle could come up with. 

But, anyway. 

The point was that working _for_ Mr. and Mrs. Tweek after Tweek had given them the middle finger and left had become quite a challenge. The new barista needed steady nerves, antibodies against sarcasm and a marijuana addiction in order to last the week. Most new baristas had just one out of three. And they were all pretty fond of Mrs. Tweek’s special brownies, so there was that. 

But, anyway. 

It was thanks to Tweek Bros.’ new ‘Let’s scare our baristas away’ policy that Kyle stepped into the coffee shop and almost had a heart attack from the new face behind the counter. Truth be told, Kelly ‘Sexy Legs’ was the last person Kyle would have expected to see. It wasn’t as if Kyle had anything against Kelly being the new barista of the week. Or Kenny flirting with her. Or Kelly’s fingers in Kenny’s hair. Or Kenny laughing at her jokes after taking a sip of his Americano. Or Kelly and Kenny together, in general. 

No. Whatever. Kyle didn’t care. It was just irritating. 

Coughing to get Kenny’s attention, Kyle shot Kelly ‘Sexy Legs’ a what he hoped was an intimidating look, scowling when all he got in return was an amused giggle.

“Hi Kyle!” 

“Hi Kelly,” he mumbled. 

“What can I get you, sweetheart?” 

Kenny’s eyes were on him. Kyle blushed, tapped his fingers against the counter and gestured towards Kenny’s drink. 

“Whatever he’s having.”

Kenny snorted (uncalled for, to be honest) and smiled widely at Kelly before she could prepare Kyle’s drink. 

“Make him a classic latte,” Kenny said. “He pretends to be tough and all, but he’s got a sweet tooth. Not too sweet though, he has diabetes.”

“Understood!” Kelly winked at Kenny and, flashing Kyle a bright smile, left them to take another customer’s order. Kyle’s frown deepened; Kenny arched an eyebrow. 

“That was totally uncalled for.”

Kenny’s soft smile caught Kyle unaware. The redhead watched, fascinated, as Kenny’s gaze dropped to his half-empty cup, attention solely focused on Kenny’s blonde eye-lashes. 

“So? Did you find what you were searching for?”

It took Kyle a few minutes to understand the question, and even then, he wasn’t sure how to answer. Lips slightly parted, he kept staring at Kenny, watching him swirl the re-mains of his coffee in his cup. As if on cue, Kelly pushed Kyle’s classic latte in front of him, and Kyle felt his whole body tense. 

“Enjoy your coffee, guys.”

“Thanks,” Kyle blurted out. He took a hasty sip and let out a hiss when the milk burned his tongue. Without taking his eyes off Kyle, Kenny carefully set his cup down on the counter. 

“You don’t seem to like Kelly all that much.”

“She’s wonderful,” Kyle snapped, his tone unintentionally dripping with sarcasm. He played with his little spoon, hitting the metal against the fake porcelain as he stirred his drink. 

“If I didn’t know better, I could almost smell you reeking of jealousy.”

Kyle decided to reciprocate Kenny’s lopsided, smug smile with a scowl. “Why would I be...? Jealous, I mean. I don’t care. I don’t care about her at all.”

“And here I wanted to tell you she’s single and searching for new boyfriend material.”

Kyle’s piercing glare didn’t seem to have the effect the redhead was aiming for. On the contrary, Kenny’s grin became wider. “Should I go for it? Since you don’t find her attractive and all.”

“If she’s your type.”

Kenny snorted. “Far from it, actually.”

The crease between Kyle’s eyebrows deepened. “Is that so? You two seemed to hit it off real good at the party.” 

“Oh, so you were watching us?” Kenny arched an eyebrow. Kyle gave his latte his undivided attention. 

“Everybody did. It was like watching porn.”

“I see.”

“It was disgusting.”

“Sure it was.”

“Stop being a smug-ass,” Kyle snapped, raising the cup back to his lips. “I said I don’t care.” 

A bark of laughter escaped Kenny’s throat. “You shouldn’t worry about her all that much, Ky. After that kiss, consider me swooned.” 

Kyle choked on his latte. Coffee splattered over his jacket and pants as Kenny laughed loudly in the background. The fucker. 

“What _kiss_?” But the moment the question left Kyle’s lips, the realization of Kenny’s implications hit him like a truck. Kenny did say he had tried to revive him… “Oh, my God!” 

“Just a tip, though: add some tongue.”

“That’s it. I am going to fucking kill you.” 

“It’s just an innocent suggestion for next time!” 

Kenny’s azure eyes twinkled with amusement, but he didn’t elaborate further. Kyle cursed and almost accidentally hit Kelly when she rushed to help him clean up with a handkerchief. He made a grab for it and mumbled a half-heartened thank you. It was only when Kelly was out of sight again that Kyle managed to calm himself down. Cheeks red, pants stained with coffee and milk, Kyle looked everywhere that wasn’t Kenny and wished the Earth could open up and swallow him whole. 

“There is not going to be a next time,” he muttered. 

“I sure very well hope so.” 

Kyle’s heart dropped. He finally dared to look at Kenny, taken aback by Kenny’s serious expression. 

“I don’t want to see you like that ever again,” Kenny said. “The thought of losing you almost drove me mad.”

Kyle sighed, turning around to face the counter. “It won’t happen again.” 

“Promise me, Kyle,” Kenny said, placing a hand on Kyle’s thigh to claim his attention back. “Promise me you’ll never go into the forest alone again.” 

“I…don’t know.” 

_“Please.”_

Kyle let his eyes wander over Kenny’s pleading face. He hesitated, swallowing a lump in his throat. His skin under Kenny’s touch was burning. Finally, he made up his mind: “Okay, I promise.” 

Kenny’s smile sent Kyle’s heart racing. When the blonde retracted his hand, Kyle suddenly felt very cold. 

“Should we go to the arcade now?” Kyle asked, trying hard to keep his voice steady - and failing. Kenny didn’t seem to notice the falter. 

“Absolutely!”

***

It was late in the evening when Kenny and Kyle walked back to the Broflovskis’ household. Kenny had insisted on walking him home, adding to Kyle’s frustration at being treated like a damsel in distress by everyone in his circle of family and friends. Stan too, who had eagerly joined them at the arcade (much to Kyle’s surprise), had acted differently around him - much more attentive of his every word and action. 

Being treated like this just stoked the flames sizzling inside him - his anger at being unable to understand how exactly they came to all this. Why Cartman was killed. Why all the doors to his house were locked. How Butters came to know who the werewolf was. And how come there hadn’t been any sightings of the monster so far? All the whys and hows did wonders for his nerves. 

And it was so easy to take it all out on Kenny. Especially after seeing him act all cozy with Kelly. Kenny wanted Kenny to be cozy with him too, goddammit. Not this ‘you are a freaking flower that needs to be protected’ shit. Kyle hated it. 

The more the blonde tried to be delicate with him, the more Kyle poked at him, until he grew restless. Pointless bickering made Kyle feel better about himself, but Kenny had a way with words - so that whatever Kyle said, it only backfired on him. Bickering turned to something else, much more promising, much more scary. Those lopsided smirks were just as bad as the unanswered questions lingering over Cartman’s case. 

Fear and anger didn’t sit well with Kyle. Kenny’s taunts, so vulgar sometimes, wound Kyle up. But then Kenny would brush his arm against his and the fire was gone. Only to be lit again at the next bickering, at the next taunt, at the next… whatever Kenny was doing. 

The blonde was literally driving him crazy. 

Walking with him side by side, talking about nothing (because who cared about the sky being so dark at this hour of the day or Tweek having been a good barista), fighting pointlessly over nothing (because who cared about who won the race in that game or who was better at Guitar Hero), Kyle felt calm - and at the same time, agitated. At peace with himself, and at the same time wanting to do something, anything to alleviate that sense of confusion. 

Because Kenny confused the hell out of him.

Because the more the blonde tried to be delicate with him, the more Kyle realized he kind of liked the attention. He liked breaking and entering into Cartman’s house with him. He liked the way Kenny got angry at him when Kyle told him a rabid dog had attacked him. That spark of emotion in Kenny’s eyes did things to him that Kyle couldn’t quite put a finger on. 

“What are you thinking of?” Kenny asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over them during Kyle’s inner turmoil. 

“You.”

“Oh?” Kenny stopped in his tracks, and Kyle willed himself to look at him, despite his embarrassment. Did he have no brain-to-mouth filter at all? Cursing himself, Kyle straightened his shoulders, only to take a little step backwards when he came face-to-face with Kenny’s confused expression. He had expected Kenny to get all smug, taking the piss out of him as he had been doing for most part of the day. 

“I thought that searching for Cartman’s murderer with you has been… fun.”

“Fun?” Kenny repeated, frowning. “Kyle, you seriously don’t have any self-preservation.”

Kyle sighed. “Probably.”

That made the crease between Kenny’s eyebrows deepen. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I just realized I should stop,” Kyle lied. “And don’t look at me like that, I am just trying to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

“What?”

“Are you deaf? I just said thank you, you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“I am not doing anything of the sort.”

“Then why are you making that face??” 

“I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

Anger colored Kyle’s cheeks. “That I am giving up?”

“That you’re thanking me so much today.”

Kyle lowered his gaze. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because my taking one for the team has always been a given.” The confession threw Kyle off. “You thanking me… It feels kinda weird.” 

Stumped for something intelligent to reply, Kyle focused his attention on the road ahead. In the sudden, awkward silence that enveloped them like a cold embrace, the sound of police sirens was almost a pleasant distraction. Kenny shifted his gaze from Kyle, stretching his neck to try and spot the police cars as the sound got closer and closer. 

Suddenly, two bolts of white and blue raced past them at an impressively high speed, sirens blaring, red and blue flashing by, blinding, sinister. The tires screeched against the asphalt as the cars made an abrupt turn to the left, taking the only path right into the woods. 

Kyle whipped around. Kenny’s pale face sent his heart up in his throat. 

“Kenny?”

The blonde didn’t answer. As if they had agreed on it beforehand, the two broke into a run after the police cars at the same time. The forest was tinted in red. Blue. Red. Blue. Sweat was sliding down Kyle’s forehead and into his eyes. Vision blurry, he reached for Kenny’s hand, as if to not lose him. His fingers intertwined around Kenny’s icy cold ones. 

Trees loomed over them, trunks morphed into a spiteful sneer. In that mist of red and blue, the McCormicks’ house looked like a small, insignificant hut in the middle of nothing.

A female voice rose above the blaring sirens. “Kenny! Kenny!”

“Karen? What is going on??”

Kenny released Kyle’s hand to hug Karen, who ran right into his wide embrace. Mr. and Mrs. McCormick stood in front of their doorstep, paralyzed. Stuart was holding a bottle of beer and looked ready to throw it at one of the policeman’s heads. 

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?!” Carol shouted. She grabbed Stuart’s arm but did nothing to prevent what was unraveling in front of them. 

Kyle shifted his gaze from Carol to Kenny and Karen hugging, over to a young man in handcuffs. He only had a second to catch a brief glimpse of Kevin McCormick’s messy chestnut hair before the policeman manhandled him into the cop car. 

“Kevin! Where are you taking my baby?!?”

The policeman shot Carol a pitying look. Then, without another word, he hopped into the driver’s seat. 

The sirens suddenly seemed louder. The world was nothing but red and blue. Red and blue. Red and blue. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to LWTIS for the wonderful beta. This monstrosity would be nothing without you! <3<3<3  
And thank you to all of you, who are still reading! I love you all!


	7. Family ties

After that terrible night, Kyle tried to contact Kenny many times. He could clearly picture that old push-button telephone - property of the McCormicks since the 80’s - ringing in that small, blighted living room. He could even picture the leaking kitchen faucet and hear the water plinking, drop after drop after drop. Empty rooms. Dead silence. 

Kyle couldn’t be sure the house was as empty as he visualized it in his mind. Maybe they were all huddled together on the worn-out sofa, grey with ash and dirt. Maybe they were afraid it was the police calling for yet another interrogation. Whatever the case, no one picked up the phone.

And after the tenth failed attempt, Kyle stopped trying to hear Kenny’s voice. 

***

The news of Butters’ murder remained _South Park Times’_ top story for a whole week. Every morning, Kyle was greeted by Sergeant Yates’ boastful expression. Printed in multitude shades of black and white, his face always took up most of the front page of Gerald’s preferred newspaper to read during breakfast. After that very first article about how Butters’ body was found in the woods - head smashed in with a baseball bat, casually recovered by a hobo from a dumpster - Kevin McCormick’s name was hardly ever mentioned. 

_Journalist: Mr. Yates, first of all, let me congratulate you on your fabulous investigation skills…_

_H. Yates: I just did my job, Ma’am. Nothing more, nothing less. _

_Journalist: You are such a humble man, Mr. Yates, but you cannot deny that without you, Mr. and Mrs. Stotch would still be looking for their son. In my last interview with them, they spoke very highly of you, and I heard the Mayor herself wants to award you a bravery medal. _

_H. Yates (laughs): As I said, it was an honor to finally put an end to this tragic story. _

_Journalist: Would you share the steps you have taken to solve the case with us? _

_H. Yates: I am afraid not. (Yates coughs and takes a sip from his glass.) This is highly classified information. _

_Journalist: I am sure you are being modest again. Is it true that Kevin McCormick confessed to the crime? _

_H. Yates: He is smart enough not to plead innocent when his involvement in Leopold Stotch’s murder is so painfully obvious. _

_Journalist: What proof do you have against him? _

_H. Yates: The baseball bat, for one. An honest citizen of South Parks’ County found it inside a dumpster, not far from the path that leads to the McCormicks’…let’s say, household. The blood and brain matter on it were immediately linked to the victim, Leopold Stotch. But it was thanks to the fingerprints that I identified the murderer. I graduated top of my class at the police academy, after all. It was child’s play, really. _

_Journalist: I haven’t met Kevin McCormick just yet, but I’ve seen a few pictures of him and he doesn’t seem like the kind to commit a murder. Did his calm exterior fool you at first glance? _

_H. Yates (laughs): It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for. _

_Journalist: Indeed. You are a wise one, Mr. Yates. And do tell me, what made you so sure those were McCormick’s fingerprints? _

_H. Yates: He’s a teenager with a criminal record, Ma’am. His fingerprints are in the system. _

_Journalist: Oh, that is interesting indeed. What for? _

_H. Yates (pauses, takes a sip from his glass): Robbery. (Another pause). At a grocery store. I can’t reveal which. It is classified information. _

_Journalist: Was it big money? _

_H. Yates (pauses and looks sheepish): He stole cheese and two loaves of bread, you know, the sort you use to make sandwiches with… Is that all, Ma’am? I have to rush back to duty. Evil never sleeps. _

_Journalist: Of course, Mr. Yates. It has been an honor talking to you. _

_H. Yates: Likewise. _

All following interviews were just a copy-paste of the last, and Kyle was just sick and tired of Yates bragging about his investigation skills and forgetting about the most important thing, which was Kevin’s _motive_. The fact that he did “not plead innocent” wasn’t exactly the same as “guilty of the charges”. There was a possibility, however remote, that Kevin was not the murderer. But could Kyle deny the fingerprints on the baseball bat, or the traces of organic material on it? 

No. He couldn’t, and that was the hardest part. If Kevin McCormick was indeed guilty, then Kyle knew why he killed Butters. Kyle didn’t know Kevin well enough to confidently declare he could never be a killer. Kevin had always kept to himself and hardly ever talked to Kenny’s friends whenever they dropped by. If asked, Kyle wouldn’t even be able to tell what color his eyes were. Maybe it was Kevin’s withdrawn character that had kept Kyle from seeing the truth? Be as it may, it didn’t matter anymore.

Gerald flipped to the sports section, the sound of the pages too loud in the small kitchen. Humming cheerfully, Sheila dropped a toast on Kyle’s plate and topped up her husband’s coffee. 

“Kyle, dear, you haven’t eaten anything yet.” 

Shooting yet another annoyed look at the newspaper, Kyle picked his spoon up and knocked it against his cereal bowl. Symmetric ripples of milk formed and oscillated, moving inwards and outwards just like Kyle’s thoughts. 

To recap, Butters bought a gun from Jimbo, along with three silver bullets, and tried to kill Kevin. Why? Because Butters was seeking revenge. 

Revenge? 

_“What if Cartman’s murderer is out there and we have a chance to put him behind bars, huh? To be honest, I’ve never seen him so excited about something. He would have probably wanted to rub his discovery in your face, once he got proof of it”. _

Butters’ last words echoed in his mind, distant - as if he had heard them once a dream. Words that had made no sense whatsoever now finally had a meaning. Butters started investigating for Cartman's murderer on his own. Someone who Cartman himself had invited over the day he died. 

“Kyle, baby, do you have a fever?” Sheila’s voice abruptly pulled him out of his thoughts. At the sight of the deep crease between his mother's eyebrows, Kyle shoved the toast in his mouth angrily. It tasted like paper; the melted butter slimy against his tongue, revolting like ink in a newspaper article. He spat it out. 

“I’m not hungry.” 

He tried to get up, but Sheila pushed him back into his chair again, palm incredibly dry against his sweaty forehead. The coldness of her ring found his brow, her long painted nails nicking his skin, like claws, red against skin. He immediately, abruptly slapped her away. From the corner of his eye, he saw his father shoot him a worried look. It spoke volumes of how concerned Sheila was that she only scowled in response.

Kyle had no time for this. He needed to think. There was something that didn’t add up and he wanted to know what it was. In some way or another, Butters was sure he had found Cartman’s murderer. 

To recap, Butters bought a gun from Jimbo along with three silver bullets, specifically chose to act on a night where the moon was not full, went into the woods (where the McCormicks lived) and tried to kill Kevin.

Why on such a night? Kyle knew that answer already. Because Butters knew you could only kill a werewolf in its human form. Which meant Kevin was a werewolf.

Kevin was _the_ werewolf. 

“Let him be, mom.” Ike’s voice rose from the underworld. Kyle snapped to attention and tried to focus on the way his brother gulped down his Sugar Crisps, eyes fixed on his smartphone. “He’s just PMS-ing.”

”Your brother’s health is not a joke, Ike,” Sheila replied, reproachful. The black-haired boy finally glanced up from his phone and flashed her a smile so bright it made her gasp in surprise. The distraction gave Kyle the opportunity to push himself away from the table. 

“He’s a joke,” Ike said. 

_ “Ike!”_

“I’m fine, mom. Don’t worry,” Kyle said, reluctantly drawing his mother’s attention back on himself. Under Sheila’s suspicious gaze, he shuffled towards the door. “I am going to meet Stan today. Don’t wait for me at lunch.”

“Don’t wait for me either!” Ike grabbed the milk carton off the table and swallowed it down eagerly, earning a disapproving look from Sheila. “I’ve got a date. See you later, guys!” 

That said, he planted a milk-stained kiss on his mother’s cheek and rushed out. 

“Did he say ‘date’?” Gerald asked. 

Kyle didn’t wait for his mother’s response. Quickly following his brother, he found Ike lingering on the doorstep, as if he had been waiting for him. The two shared a quick look as Ike swiftly took off his slippers to put his sneakers on. 

“See ya, then,” Ike said, palm against the front door. He looked torn for a moment, as if he wanted to tell Kyle something but wasn’t sure if he ought to. Then, suddenly, unexpectedly, Ike brightened up and, without another word, pushed the door open and left him alone. For a couple of minutes, Kyle stayed inside, listening to his mother move around the kitchen, plates knocking against the metal sink. 

With a sigh, he put his shoes on and walked out into the cold November air. As he made his way to Stark’s Pond, where Stan was waiting for him, his mind was racing. 

To recap, Butters found out the murderer’s identity and decided to do something about it. He bought a gun from Jimbo along with three silver bullets, specifically chose to act on a night where the moon was not full, went into the woods (where the McCormicks lived) and tried to kill Kevin. It all fit so far, didn’t it? If everything was like Kyle suspected, it only meant two things.

One: Butters knew Kevin was Cartman’s murderer. Kevin McCormick had killed Cartman. 

Two: Butters decided to take justice into his hands and tried to kill Kevin. 

Out of revenge, or out of fear? Probably the latter. Because the murderer was not human. It was a werewolf. And who would have believed Butters? What if the monster killed somebody else while the authorities discussed Butters’ theories over coffee? Butters was not as foolish as he first seemed. He knew South Park relied on a faulty judicial system. 

Or was that _Kyle’s_ line of thought? Maybe Kyle was overestimating Butters’ intelligence. 

But anyway. 

There was something Kyle was still missing.

How did Butters find out Cartman was killed by a werewolf? Kyle hadn’t believed in monsters until he practically got mauled by one. What made Butters realize they were not dealing with a human being? Or maybe this was Kyle speaking again, since Butters had always been afraid of the supernatural. Be as it may, how did he link everything to one Kevin McCormick? 

Deep in thought, Kyle didn’t realize he had reached his destination until he heard Stan cough to catch his attention. 

“Hey, dude.”

Kyle looked up. Still dizzy from all the thoughts and theories, he spent the next couple of minutes in silence, trying to focus on Stan’s worried face. Then, finally, a single word escaped his dry throat: 

“Hey.”

Kyle shoved his hands into his jacket’s pockets. Cold wind blew over the lake’s waters and through the stream of fog that swirled around them. The blurry silhouettes of trees were hardly visible in the distance, despite the sun shining in the autumn sky. Stan hopped from one leg to the other in an unsuccessful attempt to get himself warm. 

“Have you heard from Kenny these days?” Kyle asked. His heart dropped when Stan shook his head. “Oh.”

“Can you blame him?” Stan asked with a shrug. “He must be having a rough time, what with his brother and all.”

“That must be it.” Kyle mumbled, ducking further inside his jacket. A cold shiver ran down his spine. He didn’t want to think about Kenny, let alone feel disappointed that the blonde apparently had no intention to get in touch with him yet - with _them_, he meant. His guts churned uncomfortably. “Anyway, enough about him.” Yes, this wasn’t the time and place to talk about Kenny. They had more important things to discuss. “Did you count them?”

“Two bullets, just like you expected.” A little white cloud formed around Stan’s words. 

“So, Butters did fire once.” Kyle recalled the conversation he had with Stan the day before, during which they debated whether Kevin had acted on self-defense or went right in for the kill. Now, this was an interesting detail. Did Butters fire and miss? The news didn’t mention Kevin having any incriminating injuries, after all. What exactly happened that night? 

“Don’t you think it’s weird,” Stan interrupted his thoughts, “that Kevin just happened to have a baseball bat on him when he met Butters in the woods?” 

“He must have felt that something wasn’t right and took it in case things went downhill.”

“But it was _Butters_,” Stan said, matter-of-factly. “And have you seen Kevin McCormick? He could have taken him down with his bare hands.” 

“Maybe he didn’t want to leave any prints.”

“Which means this is first-degree murder.”

“Hmm.” Kyle considered Stan’s words. “So, do you think he knew Butters was armed?”

Stan shrugged. “No clue, man. Maybe it’s not even that important. The murderer has been caught, right? So, case closed. We can all sleep peacefully now.” 

Kyle hummed again. They marveled at the lake until Stan broke the silence again a couple of minutes later. “To think Kevin is a werewolf....” Kyle didn’t dare to comment on that and let Stan do all the talking. “Kevin McCormick tried to fucking kill you, Kyle. Aren’t you happy he’s behind bars?”

Are those bars even enough to contain him? Kyle wanted to ask but kept the thought to himself. He pulled the lapels of his jacket up to protect himself from the cold and pondered over his next words. Kevin McCormick suddenly became a new mystery to solve - Kyle couldn’t grasp how Butters managed to figure him out. His best bet was that he was told by Cartman himself. It was highly probable Cartman left behind some clues that Butters could easily interpret - Kyle couldn’t picture him being entirely honest with Butters, after all. But what were those? This was the link Kyle was still missing, and maybe Kevin could enlighten him. 

Absentmindedly, Kyle placed his hand on his chest. His heart was racing so fast he could feel it beating against his palm. Stan was right. It was still impossible to believe Kevin was a werewolf. How could Kevin - calm, introverted Kevin - be the werewolf that attacked him that night? And yet - he could still see them. Those azure eyes, gazing down at him, those fangs flashing in the moonlight… he could still feel the claws tearing his skin. Kevin had tried to kill him. Did Kenny know his brother was a monster?

He shivered. 

_If the bitten does not die, it is highly probable they will turn into a monster as well._

That simple sentence had not left him alone once since that quick trip to the library with Kenny. He could reiterate Biggle’s words, one by one. The fact he had not died, that Kenny had thought he was dead… Could that mean…? 

_The poison is stored in the heart of the bitten, sending the carrier into a state of apparent-death. This is the reason why I would highly suggest you remove and destroy the heart of the bitten one, if you had the misfortune to witness a lycanthrope attack._

Kyle closed his eyes briefly.

Kenny thought he was dead. _A state of apparent death._ But Kyle was still alive. He remembered the pain along his arm, the hours where all he wanted to do was tear his own skin apart. Kyle had no doubt: he had been poisoned. Only poison could provoke such agony, a will to die that only Kenny had managed to extinguish. 

“I want to see him.”

At those words, Stan almost fell on the ground in surprise. “Come again?”

Kyle swallowed. He didn’t know what he wanted to say himself. Kenny’s face – grinning brightly at him the day he gave Kyle his phone back – flashed behind his eyelids. He wanted to see _him_, so much it hurt, so badly he thought he was going to have a stroke.

And yet there was another man he needed to see more. In that moment, Kyle had to focus on his priorities - on his life. 

Keeping his eyes on the lake in front of them, Kyle enunciated: “I need to see Kevin McCormick.”

Stan blinked slowly, once, twice. Then a whimper escaped his lips. His mouth opened and closed like a stranded goldfish. It would have looked ridiculous, if it weren’t for the guilt that flooded Kyle as he watched him. 

Finally, Stan screeched: “_Are you out of your mind?!_”

Jaw clenched, Kyle turned to face him head on. He noticed Stan’s eyes drop onto the hand over his heart and he immediately shoved it into his jacket’s pocket, away from his friend’s knowing gaze. 

“Tell me you aren’t thinking what I think you are thinking.”

“You haven’t read the book, Stan,” Kyle said, hating how condemning he sounded.

“You’ve been chanting the same sentence for a fucking week, dude! I fucking know what you are going to say next.” 

“Do you think I could be-?”

Stan’s loud sigh interrupted him. “Figures.”

“But he might help me come up with a plan, just in case!”

“Kevin is not your wolf Yoda!” Stan arched an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“I am not joking, Stan.”

“And you think I am?! He’s dangerous! What if he tries to kill you again?”

“He won’t. He will understand. What if I turned into a monster, huh? What would my mother say?!”

“You are not a werewolf!”

“There hasn’t been a full moon yet, so we can’t know for sure.”

Stan started massaging his eyes. “Oh, for the love of God.”

“The poison can store in the heart of the bitten, sending the carrier into a state of apparent death,” Kyle reiterated, echoing the book’s words. 

Stan whimpered. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Kyle ignored him and continued, louder: “This is the reason why I would highly suggest you remove and destroy the heart of the bitten one, in case you witnessed a lycanthrope attack. In other words, I _could_ be a werewolf.”

“Because no one took your heart out?!” Stan looked completely appalled by Kyle’s train of thought. 

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Stan didn’t know what to say to that, and Kyle smirked. His sense of triumph was short-lived, however. The thought struck him like lighting, leaving him paralyzed. Stan, who was pinching his nose and mumbling something under his breath, didn’t seem to notice Kyle’s sudden shift in mood. 

What did Ike say that one time? 

That Cartman and his mom were missing their hearts?

For the love of God. They were fucking missing their hearts!

“Stan,” Kyle whispered, taking a hold of his friend’s bomber jacket. “Stan, I think I know what led Butters to think Cartman was killed by a werewolf.”

“Huh?”

“He somehow got his hands on the coroner’s report, Stan. He knew the hearts were missing. Butters knew Cartman was up to something, something big, he said, and he knew that Cartman had invited someone over that night. I think… no, I am _sure_, that Cartman lured Kevin to his house that night. Maybe he wanted to interrogate him, make him confess. But Kevin turned into a monster and killed both him and Mrs. Cartman.”

Stan turned white. “But - but does that mean Kevin… ate their hearts? Did he know what he was doing?”

Kyle ground his teeth and took a deep breath. He stood with his spine straight, determination flooding him with a sense of security. 

“One more reason to visit him, isn’t it?” Kyle stared Stan down, daring the other to challenge him. “How did Cartman find out Kevin was a werewolf? How did Kevin escape without leaving any trace behind? What did he do to the hearts? Why did he kill Butters in cold blood? Was it because Butters fired and missed and he felt threatened? These are questions only Kevin can answer.”

Stan sighed in defeat. “Kevin didn’t tell the cops shit. How can you be so sure he’ll open his heart to you?” At the word ‘heart’, Stan’s skin turned a greenish hue. 

“Because I know something that the cops don’t. I know he is a werewolf.”

***

Kyle wasn’t sure he would ever get permission to visit Kevin McCormick in prison. On the one hand, he wasn’t a close friend or a family member, so it was highly likely his request would be denied. On the other hand, potential visitors needed to go through unending bureaucratic madness and security arrangements before they could finally sit across an inmate. Kyle could only imagine how much harder the process was in the case of a freshly caught murderer. 

Nevertheless, he had once again underestimated South Park’s law enforcement. Just three days after Kyle sent an official request, he received a letter confirming that Kevin McCormick had put him on the visitors' list. Kyle had to reread the letter at least ten times to be sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. 

When he arrived at the prison, Kyle realized that he had been worrying over nothing. Two policemen picked him up and let him through the security checkpoint, laughing at cat videos on their smartphones the whole way. Whistling and chit-chatting about the lunch menu, they accompanied him to the visitor’s area, where a couple of inmates sat around plastic, round tables with their family members. 

Kevin McCormick was sitting all alone, at the table in the farthest end of the room. Wearing only a white tank top and the typical orange convict’s pants, Kevin was staring out the window, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. At this point, nothing could surprise Kyle anymore. The lack of any no-smoking policy was just icing on the faulty system cake. Shooting a worried look at the prison guards still laughing among themselves, Kyle made a beeline towards Kevin. He could only hope that they would bother to intervene if the older boy tried to rip his heart out with his teeth. 

Kevin didn’t shift his gaze away from the window until Kyle sat down in front of him. He took a painfully slow drag from his cigarette, chestnut bangs falling into his eyes. In the awkward silence, Kyle gave him a good look-over, taking a moment to study the curve of Kevin’s biceps. Stan was right: Kevin looked strong enough to crush Butters’ skull with one hand. 

“Like what you see?” 

Jumping in surprise, Kyle bit down a curse when he came face to face with Kevin’s amused, lopsided grin – so very similar to Kenny’s. Throat suddenly dry, Kyle tried to keep his eyes on Kevin’s chestnut ones. The grin smoothed out into a thin, albeit still amused line. Kyle watched with trepidation as Kevin raised a hand to brush his fingers through his messy hair. 

“You’re Kyle Broflovski, Kenny’s friend,” Kevin said, putting out his cigarette. All smugness disappeared at those words, replaced by something that somehow managed to put Kyle’s anxieties at ease. The redhead felt his shoulders slump, his heart rate slowing down. The corners of Kevin’s eyes softened. 

At the sight of those eyes, Kyle leaned back in his chair in defeat. He suddenly had no idea why he came anymore. There was no werewolf before him. Only a man who was accused of Butters’ murder.

“Yes.” Voice croaky, Kyle took a deep breath to regain composure. No matter how calm he felt - now that he knew he wasn’t in the presence of a monster - there was still something about Kevin that made him fidgety. 

“Does Kenny know you’re here?” Kevin asked. He toyed with the butt of his cigarette, as if he regretted putting it out. When Kyle didn’t answer, Kevin laughed half-heartedly. “Kenny told me you were a talker. Well, bless your heart...” The smug smirk was back on Kevin’s lips, but somehow, Kyle knew it was all just an act. 

If Kevin was trying to intimidate him, he hadn’t taken Kyle’s infamous stubbornness into account. Oh, well, Kyle would show him alright. 

Squaring his shoulders, Kyle finally decided to speak. “Why did you accept to put me on the visitors’ list?” 

“Because I know exactly why you applied.” Kevin’s answer was fast and surprisingly spiteful. Anger flashing across his face, his muscles along his arms tightened, and Kyle unconsciously shrank further into his chair. “Well, here I am. This is what a killer looks like.” Kevin opened his arms wide. Kyle shot a nervous glance over his shoulder towards the guards. 

“Does this satisfy your curiosity, Broflovski?” 

Forcing himself to look at Kevin again, Kyle noticed the resignation that had abruptly graced Kevin’s handsome features. Kyle let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. Elbows back on the table, Kevin looked down at the cigarette butt between his fingers. His choppy bangs momentarily covered the sadness in his chestnut eyes. 

“No,” Kyle said. “That’s not what I’m here for.” Pity warmed his heart as he leaned across the table, hit by the sudden urge to get closer to Kevin. The older boy looked at him in surprise, then doubt, and lastly with compassion. 

“You want to know if I killed your other friend too?” Kevin asked, words hardly louder than a whisper. “I’m sorry about your loss, kid, but Cartman’s blood is not on my hands.”

Flabbergasted, Kyle leaned back into his chair again. His breath came out ragged. There was the sudden yearning to hug Kevin again - his sadness was just so overwhelming - but at the same time, he wanted to hit him so fucking badly, to tell him that he didn’t care about Cartman, or Butters or anyone else. He came here to get some answers to a mystery he couldn’t solve, not to be comforted for the loss of someone who’d just made fun of him 24/7. 

“Cartman was not my friend.”

Kevin gazed at him in a curious, reflective way. “I remember you three. Cartman, the Marsh kid, you… always messing around with Kenny. God knows what my brother went through with ya, but he liked your company. I know how Kenny took it, so I can only imagine what you must have felt when Cartman died.”

Kyle swallowed. “And how did Kenny take Butters’ death?”

Kevin let out a soft snort. “You trying to make me confess, kid? Haven’t you heard the news?”

“I want to hear it from you.”

Kevin looked down at his hands, and Kyle finally noticed just how badly the other was shaking. 

“I didn’t want to kill him.”

Heart speeding up, Kyle grabbed onto the table as if to keep himself from falling. Kevin bit his bottom lip – and Kyle’s breath hitched. Kevin slouched forwards, curling into himself just like Kenny always did into his parka. Seeing the pained expression on Kevin’s face, Kyle’s certainties crumbled down like a castle made of cards. There was definitely no monster before him. Butters had been wrong. Kevin didn’t kill Cartman. He had hunted down and fired on the wrong man. 

“I didn’t want to,” Kevin repeated. Eyes back on Kyle, his lips twitched into a sad grimace. “But sometimes, I just can’t control my strength. Can you believe that?”

“I believe you,” Kyle managed to say, despite his dry throat. “But could you at least tell me-!”

“Kyle, please, don’t ask.” Kevin interrupted him. The way he said his name sent a shiver down Kyle’s spine. 

“Did he threaten you?” Kyle prodded, unable to help himself. Kevin’s mouth remained shut. “You could plead self-defense! My dad is a lawyer. He knows about this stuff. I could-!” 

“I don’t care what’ll happen to me,” Kevin cut him off. “Understand this, Broflovski. I don’t care what happens to _me_.”

Kyle searched Kevin’s face, and understanding hit him like a ton of bricks. Eyes wide, he gave a tense nod and Kevin’s shoulders dropped in relief. 

When Kevin searched his pockets for another cigarette, Kyle took it as his clue to leave. The chair screeched against the fake linoleum, alerting the guards of his departure. As the men’s footsteps grew closer, Kevin flashed Kyle yet another small smile.

“I guess I can see why Kenny likes you,” Kevin said, sending Kyle’s heart into overdrive. “You’re a good kid. Take care of yourself.”

“You too.” Aware of how inappropriate that sounded, Kyle promptly looked away in shame. 

“Smoking again, McCormick?” One of the guards said, approaching them. Kyle dared to shoot a glance towards Kevin again. As the older boy stood up, he tucked the cigarette behind his ear. Eyes down, Kyle left without another word. 

***

The full moon came on Thanksgiving. 

The festive atmosphere that reigned at the Broflovskis’ did nothing to soothe Kyle’s nerves. He ate half-heartedly, worried his mother by declining a second slice of pumpkin pie and abruptly excused himself from the table to go to bed early. Making a brief stop to the bathroom before holing himself in his room, Kyle marveled at how pale his complexion had become. The dark bags under his eyes weren’t a surprise. He hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep for several days, preoccupied by his potential impending transformation. 

Except for Stan, there was no one Kyle could talk to about his fears. Kenny seemed to have disappeared from the face of the Earth, and it was better if he kept his family in the dark. That being said, he wasn’t sure how long he could keep such a big thing a secret.

A couple of hours, at most? He didn’t know what would happen if he suddenly turned into a werewolf inside his own house. Would he break down the door? Attack his own family and go on a killing spree, like it happened at Cartman’s? The thought hadn’t left him alone for days. Kevin McCormick couldn’t help him. No one could. Kyle had no idea who the real werewolf was. 

He was alone. 

Completely, immensely alone. 

Silently locking the door behind him, Kyle made a beeline towards the window. The moon wasn’t visible yet. How much would it take him to jump out of the window and make a run towards the forest? A couple of minutes at most? He didn’t have time to waste. He had to act fast. 

He was swinging a leg over the windowsill when somebody knocked on the door. 

“Kyle?” His mother was the last person he wanted to hear at that moment. The handle rattled. “Kyle, open the door this instant, _sweetie_.”

_“Shit.” _

“What was that?!”

“Mom, not now!” Kyle cursed again and tried to pull himself away from the window. “I’m-! Fuck, I’m-!”

“Open the door, Kyle!”

“Give me a sec!”

“You’ve been acting weird for weeks, Kyle! Your father and I are getting worried.”

Kyle was suddenly overrun by guilt and shame. His mother knocked on the door again, softer this time, and he shot a worried look towards the full moon peeking from behind the mountain. Shaking with anger and fear, Kyle swung his leg over the windowsill again.

“Mom! Can we talk about it tomorrow?!” In his haste to get out as soon as possible, he managed to knock down the lamp on the drawer. It crashed on the floor, pieces of glass flying everywhere. “Fuck!”

“What the hell are you doing in there?!” Sheila shouted. “I swear, Kyle, if you don’t open the door right now, I will break it down myself!”

“What is going on, Sheila?” 

Oh, fuck. His dad was there too?! 

“I bet he’s masturbating.”

_“Ike!”_

Kyle cursed and stepped back down into his room. Slowly, the moon crawled along the sky - big, round, blinding. He stared at it in fascination and let the cold moonlight caress his face. Momentarily forgetting the incessant banging at the door, Kyle looked down at his hands. The fear was choking him. 

Now. It was going to happen now! 

He waited, and waited, and waited. 

“Kyle? Kyle! _Kyle!!_”

The moon illuminated the street below his window. The forest was a quiet, black mass in the distance. The sound of people toasting and celebrating reached him from far away. And in the midst of it all, there stood Kyle, completely paralyzed, staring at the moon rising higher in the sky. 

“Kyle, I swear!”

Abruptly, Kyle whipped around, ran towards the door and swung it open. He must have looked like shit, for his parents and Ike fell into stunned silence at the mere sight of him. 

Finally, after what felt like ages, Ike spoke, eyebrows arched. “Are you crying?”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Kyle raised a tentative hand towards his wet cheeks. 

“Kyle?” Gerald asked, reaching to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Kyle sobbed. Without a word, he ran into his mom’s embrace and grabbed onto her as if his life depended on it. He had no idea what his family looked like in that moment, but Kyle didn’t give a damn what they thought about him. He could even bear Ike’s taunts.

As long as they were safe. 

He didn’t care about what they were going to tell him later. He didn’t care if his mom punished him for the broken lamp. 

As long as _they_ were safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @LWTIS for being such an awesome supporter and beta!  
And of course, all my love to everyone who kudo-ed and liked my stories so far. <3


	8. Lost bet

The Excel table, opened hours ago, mocked Kyle in all its white, empty glory. It was an idea that had come to him whilst he tossed and turned in his bed, waiting to finally drift off to sleep. An idea, which soon evolved into an obsessive, ridiculous thought. His mind kept bouncing back and forth between Kevin McCormick, Kenny, Butters and Cartman. His thoughts spun in a loop, bombarding him with words he’d heard, faces he’d seen, fears that had been induced into him. In the few seconds it took to realize he hadn’t turned into a monster, Kyle had managed to dredge up the past - year by year, month by month, minute by minute. Under the cold moonlight, his childhood had suddenly turned less blurry, less distant, less irrelevant. 

As the first rays of sunlight slithered through the shutters, the case of the missing hearts became his number one priority. Regarding the whole mess happening in South Park, there were a few things he could be sure of and those were the following:

One: Cartman _willingly_ invited his killer over, most likely because of what he’d found out. Considering all the things Kyle had learned since he died, he would eat his ushanka if the so-called ‘big discovery’ wasn’t the werewolf’s identity. Of course, Cartman would have done his best to use that information to his advantage. Kyle so knew he would have. But something went wrong. If Cartman knew who the werewolf was, why did he lure him into his house on a full moon? Cartman had never been that impulsive. If he had decided to talk with the killer on that specific night, it was because he had been planning to for a long time. Everything he did was premeditated; nothing was left to chance alone. 

And yet, Cartman got himself killed by allowing a werewolf into his home. Kyle was sure, one hundred percent in fact, that Cartman’s appointment was with someone he thought _wasn’t_ the werewolf - but someone close to the werewolf, who surely knew his secret. 

Two: Butters had no idea what Cartman’s plans were, but knew he was up to something. Learning about the missing hearts somehow, Butters found a connection between the killer and the werewolf. Kyle couldn’t rule out the possibility of Cartman bragging about the true nature of his discovery to Butters without revealing the werewolf’s name. That would explain how Butters came to the right conclusion so quickly. Whatever the case, Butters went after the killer and got his head smashed in by Kevin. 

Third: Although Kevin McCormick killed Butters, he wasn’t the werewolf. Kyle believed his claims that he had nothing to do with Cartman’s death. Kevin killed _Butters_ and he did that to protect somebody else. Whoever that somebody was, he was the real monster. 

And now, Kyle just _had_ to know who it was, _had_ to discover the werewolf’s identity. There was only one way to find out - and that was to follow Cartman’s footsteps. No one in South Park knew Cartman’s logic better than Kyle himself. For all his paranoia that always made people tell him he was seeing things where there was nothing to see, Kyle had always somehow _known_ Cartman’s plans. Since the day they first met, Cartman’s wicked nature had been painfully obvious to Kyle. Even when Cartman was seemingly driven by the deepest and most compassionate feelings - just like that time he started advocating for LGBTQ rights in 11th grade - Kyle _knew_ it was all to his own advantage. Cartman’s motivations had always eluded him, and so, he usually ended up being the bad guy. “No proof, no right to start pointing fingers,”Mr. Garrison told him once. Time would always grant him mercy, of course, but being in the right would only do so much when Cartman managed to get what he wanted anyway, _despite_ everyone turning against him in the end. 

Even in death, Cartman was one step ahead of him, seemingly mocking Kyle for not figuring out who the werewolf was sooner. Cartman had beaten him to it, and Kyle was still struggling to just catch up. No. He couldn’t let the fatass win this time too! 

The answer to his prayers came during the night, as the full moon shone brightly outside his window. The werewolf was out there, roaming about and searching for yet another victim, all-too aware that he shouldn’t forget to eat their hearts afterwards.

That might just be the key to the werewolf’s identity. The Cartmans weren’t the only ones who were missing the hearts. From the day Kyle turned eleven till his graduation, there had been two rabbits, a decapitated sparrow and countless cats, dogs, sheep and foxes who had left a heartless body behind. 

“My question is,” Kyle mused out loud, filling in the Excel column dedicated to all the animals he remembered finding during recess, “did all this happen during a full moon?” 

“Are you writing poetry, Kyle?” Ike’s voice startled him. With a screech, Kyle slapped his laptop shut and whipped around in his office chair to face Ike’s judgmental expression. “Man, you sure are acting weird these days.” Kyle opened his mouth to retort, but snapped it shut again when Ike headed towards the window with quick, determined steps. He drew back the curtains and stared down, catching Kyle’s full attention. “Listen, he’s been wobbling around the house for the past ten minutes and distracting me from my games. And you know how I hate it when that happens. Are you going to do anything about it?”

“Who’s _wobbling_?” 

“Come and see for yourself, lover boy.” 

Mumbling a curse under his breath, Kyle abandoned his desk and walked to the window. “I hope this is not one of your sick jokes, Ike, ’cause I was - _what the fuck?!_”

“Yeah, it’s ridiculous,” Ike agreed, letting out an amused snort when Kyle pressed his nose and hands against the glass. 

Right in front of their house, a very-much drunk Kenny wobbled around, exactly as Ike said. The blonde, obviously confused, was walking up and down the street, making abrupt U-turns towards the pathway that led to the garage - only to march backwards to the street and into the neighbor’s garden to reach the other side of the Broflovskis’ household and back again. 

“He’s drunk,” Kyle said, incredulous. 

“You have a special talent for stating the obvious.” 

“He’s fucking _drunk_!”

“No kidding.” Ike fixed his gaze out of the window again. “I swear, you have _huge_ issues you need to address, man. Whatever sexual tension is going on between you two, solve it quickly, will you? I’d like to play Call of Duty in peace without mom complaining about you, your unnecessary crying, and your BF over there looking like an intoxicated bee. Oh, no, there he goes again,” Ike’s voice was flat and unamused. “Can you please explain why he’s trying to climb over the fence when the gate. Is. Fucking. Open?!”

“I’ll ask him… unless I kill him first,” Kyle mumbled, grabbing his jacket from his chair. He quickly ran down the stairs, shoved his feet into the first pair of shoes within reach and walked out into the winter cold air in a total state of disarray. Kenny was trying to swing himself over the fence when Kyle showed up. Alerted by the loud slam of the door, the blonde looked up and glowed at the sight of his friend. 

“Kyle!” Kenny tried to lower himself back down onto the ground, letting out a loud ‘oof’ when he fell ass-first into Sheila Broflovski’s flower bed. 

Paralyzed, Kyle watched with saucer-wide eyes as Kenny disentangled himself from the bushes and took unsteady steps towards him. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

Kenny didn’t answer. Cheeks red from alcohol, he cupped the back of Kyle’s head instead and gently pulled him closer. The redhead gawked at him, lips parting in shock. Whatever he wanted to say next was immediately forgotten as Kenny studied him attentively, eyes lingering on Kyle longer than necessary. 

“How are you?” 

Kenny’s question caught Kyle completely by surprise. As much as he wanted to laugh at the blonde, his throat was too dry to make any coherent sound. The fingers in his hair were tracing small circles across his scalp. His breath - reeking of cheap alcohol - caressed his cheeks. He was standing so close that - just an inch away from pressing their foreheads together, if Kenny wanted to. 

Breath wispy and quick, Kyle pushed Kenny away carefully, letting out a sigh of relief when the blonde dropped his arms down and away from Kyle’s hair. 

“I should ask _you_ that, you fucker.” Kyle desperately wanted to sound outraged, but his tone betrayed him, implying a concern when there shouldn’t have been. And it was all because of the fucking way Kenny was gazing at him, studying his face as if trying to solve the biggest mystery of the universe. Kyle wanted him to stop. Or tone it down a little. Whatever. 

It didn’t feel nice at all. 

Seriously.

“Did anything happen last night?” Kenny’s worried expression made Kyle’s heart ache. How the hell did Kenny suspect that Kyle had a rough night? Damn. He really was an open book to his friends. 

“No.”

“Nothing at all?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Tilting his head to the side, Kenny mulled over Kyle’s answer. The sight of Kenny’s neck – so exposed to the cold - sent a shiver down Kyle’s spine. Licking his lips, Kyle fumbled for words. He wanted to say something that would explain the dark circles under his eyes, or his fucking fuzzy hair - but the only thing he could focus on was Kenny and Kenny only. Which didn’t make things any easier. 

“Good.” The blonde smiled and Kyle forgot how to breathe. 

_“GET A ROOM, YOU TWO!” _

Eyes wide, Kyle leaped backwards and whipped around, catching a brief glimpse of Kenny momentarily losing his balance. From his seat on the second floor, like a spectator in a theatre enjoying a very good play, Ike burst into laughter, waving when Kyle saluted him with a middle finger. 

“What a great idea!” 

Rolling his eyes, Kyle turned his attention on Kenny again, breath catching when the blonde stepped right back into his personal bubble. Kenny’s Cheshire-cat smirk promised nothing good. Not to mention the way his tongue slowly traced along the corner of his mouth to his bottom lip…

“I know a place where we can take our clothes off too.”

Distracted as he was, it took a moment for Kenny’s words to register. Realization sent a violent blush crawling up his neck and across his cheeks. Kenny moved closer still, until their chests were almost touching - and Kyle shoved him away, hard enough to send the blond sprawling on his back. 

“Ouch.”

_“YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO SHOVE HIM DOWN ONTO A BED!”_

“You fucking shut your goddamned mouth!!” Kyle screamed at the laughing Ike before helping Kenny back to his feet again. “And you! I’m taking you home. Right now, you donkey-ass! You’re wasted!”

“Don’t be such a party pooper,” Kenny whined. He grasped Kyle’s wrist and gave it a petulant tug. “I’ve been dreaming about this for ages!”

“Will you stop talking shit?! You’re drunk.”

“Oh, please, Kyle! Token won’t mind if you’re there too!”

Token? If he’s there too…? Where? What?! _Token?!!_

“What does he - ! Oof!” 

Momentarily disregarding Kenny’s enigmatic words, Kyle grabbed the green ushanka that Ike had oh-so gracefully thrown at him. Without waiting for an answer, Kenny started walking, leaving Kyle no other option than to follow him. Who knew what he wanted to do with Token, after all? Kyle needed to be the responsible one and keep a close eye on him. 

_“You can leave your hat on!”_ Ike sang loudly after them. His smile was so wide and full of teeth, it was downright embarrassing. 

***

At first, Kyle thought that Kenny’s idea - or whatever his plans were - was just a spur of the moment thing, dictated by alcohol and poor life choices. However, it soon became pretty obvious that no matter how drunk Kenny was, he somehow managed to keep a clear head and had a precise goal in mind. Silently swaying from side to side, Kenny led the way to Token’s villa, and Kyle trailed behind him without protest. (Fine, that was a big lie. He _might_ have complained a couple of times. In his defense though, he was curious to see what Kenny wanted to do so he _did try_ to tone his objections down, by Kyle-Broflovski-standards.)

When the two finally reached the open gate and slowly walked up the garden path towards the front door, Kyle fully expected Token to sic his guard dogs on them. Token was patiently waiting for them on the porch, having already seen them coming from the security cameras. Surprisingly enough, there were no dogs in sight. 

“What’s up, guys?” Token asked. Despite his polite tone, there was a suspicious glint in his dark eyes. Kyle couldn’t blame him, really. God knows how much he had suffered throughout his school years due to Cartman’s shenanigans. 

“Hey, Token!” Kenny greeted him enthusiastically. Token arched an eyebrow.

“Is he drunk?”

“Now is not the time for details,” Kenny said. “I’m here for… you know…”

Token’s gaze quickly shifted to Kyle before he turned his attention back to Kenny. “Now?” Kenny nodded. “You sure?” Kenny nodded once more. Token let out a deep sigh.

“What the fuck are you two talking about?” Kyle asked, his temper rising at not being able to follow their weird banter. 

“You promised,” Kenny said, voice surprisingly steady and determined. Token sighed again. 

“Fine. Come on in, you guys.” Turning his back on them, Token led them inside. Glowing with enthusiasm, Kenny grinned at Kyle, grabbed his hand impatiently and pulled him inside. 

Their steps echoing across the polished marble floor, a slideshow of family portraits accompanied them down the huge hallway and up the stairs. For a couple of minutes, Kyle studied them absentmindedly before deciding to break the awkward silence.

“Where are we going?” 

Token glanced at him over his shoulder. “To my parents’ private bathroom.”

Kyle promptly tripped over his own feet, making Kenny giggle. “Why?!” 

“I lost a bet once,” Token explained. A grimace tugged at the corner of his lips. “I mean, Clyde did. Against Kenny. He promised Kenny to let him use my parents’ hot tub.” 

_“What?”_

Token shrugged. “I’m too kind for my own good.” He suddenly froze in his tracks to stare at the blonde, who was marveling at a full-scale sculpture of a naked woman. “Don’t touch that. It’s a Bernini.”

“Look at that ass!” Kenny exclaimed, pressing a finger against said body part. 

Kyle and Token shared a look. 

“I’m gonna kill Clyde,” Token whispered and massaged his temples. Kyle felt that on a very personal level. 

“You could have said no.” 

“It’s fine.” Token shrugged. “You’re lucky my parents are out on a business trip today.”

“Yeah, very lucky,” Kyle answered, tone flat. 

“Honestly, though, I was sure he would bring a girl over for that, not you.”

“I’m here against my will.” Just in that moment, Kenny picked up the pace to catch up with them and slid an arm around Kyle’s waist. At Token’s arched eyebrow, Kyle shoved Kenny away violently. “Don’t look at me like that. He’s drunk.” 

“Sure.” 

Unperturbed by Kyle’s behavior, Kenny swung an arm around the redhead’s shoulders instead. Kyle hoped that Token didn’t notice the blushing. “I swear, it’s not what it looks like.”

The brunette nodded slowly. “Suuure.”

Kyle slapped Kenny’s arm away and shot Token the most murderous look he could muster. 

“Honestly, I don’t care.” Token raised his arms up in surrender, but Kyle couldn’t miss the amused upward tug of his lips, replacing the mildly irritated grimace that had graced his face since their arrival. “Anyway, here we are.” 

Token opened a door to their left and beckoned them inside. Eyebrows raised in wonder, Kyle stepped into an immense, incredibly shiny bathroom with marble tiles. The sun slipped through the small frosted window, giving the room an almost ethereal vibe. Its rays gathered on the raised bathtub right in the middle, making the expensive porcelain shine like a golden throne. 

Kenny let out a loud, giddy sound at the sight. He ran towards the hot tub on extremely steady footing, pressing buttons and turning on the taps like a little kid unwrapping his first Christmas present. Dumbfounded, Kyle watched him fumble around. An overwhelming wave of tenderness dashed over him, leaving him breathless. 

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Token’s voice pulled him back to reality. He checked his watch. “I have a Skype lesson in about three minutes. Have…” he glanced over at Kenny and then at Kyle, “…fun. You can find clean bath towels in the closet on the right. Oh, and don’t… break anything while you’re at it.”

Token’s knowing stare did nothing to soothe Kyle’s sudden embarrassment. He mumbled that Token was interpreting everything wrong, but the other boy didn’t seem to hear him and left them alone without another word. 

“They have relaxing bath salts, Kyle!” Kenny shouted, raising a bottle in the air for Kyle to see. He dropped the contents in the hot, bubbly water and started undressing himself. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Kyle exclaimed when Kenny tugged at his underpants. The blonde snorted.

“What does it look like?” In a swift movement, he was completely naked and climbing into the bath with a loud _splash_. “Aaah! This feels wonderful! Come on in!”

“No way in hell,” Kyle stated, moving closer to marvel at the hot tub. Yes, the bathtub looked big enough to contain three people, but there was no way Kyle was going to get naked with Kenny in there! Naked. With Kenny. In a hot tub. The thought made Kyle groan into his hands. 

Oblivious to Kyle’s inner screaming, Kenny laid back in the bathtub and rested his head on the headrest. “I haven’t had a hot bath for ages,” he whispered, closing his eyes and playing with the vanilla-scented foam. “Hot water is hard to get back home. Dad hasn’t paid the heating bill yet.”

The sudden confession made Kyle forget all about the absurdity of the situation. Furrowing his eyebrows, he gazed down at Kenny, humming to himself, and sighed. The anger and the embarrassment caused by Token’s words and his reservations about the whole thing were soon pushed to the back of his mind. Although the foam was covering most of Kenny’s body, Kyle could still catch a glimpse of his scrawny, incredibly pale shoulders. He sat down next to Kenny’s head, careful not to get wet with the continuous _splish-splash_, and let his gaze wander over the vertebrae just underneath Kenny’s nape. Faint lines decorated his skin - so faint that Kyle would have thought he was imagining them, if it hadn’t been for that night they spent together. Kyle had often thought about those silver scars since then, but it was the first time he saw them in the light of day. 

“Sure you don’t want to get in?” Kenny asked, turning around and crossing his arms over the rim. Finding himself so close to Kenny’s face so suddenly, Kyle struggled to come up with a quick, coherent answer. What made things worse was that something in the back of his mind was telling him to give in, to get undressed and join Kenny in that huge bathtub and let himself be enveloped by vanilla-scented bath salts. 

And Kenny’s body. 

Throat dry, Kyle tried his best to say something in anger. Anger was his solution to everything, after all, the master key for every kind of embarrassing situation. The horror of his own thoughts made his stomach churn. This was Kenny they were talking about - his friend since kindergarten! Kenny resting his head on his wet forearm, gazing at him with such a heated stare, lips tugging into a soft smile… Kyle found himself unable to get angry. He was paralyzed. His mouth opened, but no sound came out of it. 

Kenny looked at him with his soft azure eyes, so close Kyle could marvel at every detail on his face - the curve of his cheek, his blonde eyelashes, the faint scars across his neck. 

Realizing that he had gone too long without talking, Kyle forced himself to avert his attention. “You’re drunk.”

“No, don’t worry,” Kenny whispered. “I’m sobering up.” 

And did he have to talk so quietly, so tenderly? When there was no one else here but them? 

“Yeah, well.” At Kenny’s words, Kyle managed to summon some of his good old anger back, right before he did something reckless with Kenny’s mouth. “Your breath still _stinks_! I can’t believe you went and got drunk! Don’t you remember the kind of fuckery we had to go through with Stan?! If you have a problem - !”

“Kyle, don’t shout.” Curt, Kenny turned his back on him. “It’s been a shitty week. Or month. Or whatever.”

“I know that Kevin being in prison is not-!”

“Kyle, _don’t_.” Kenny hissed through gritted teeth, eyes flaring up with anger. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, alright? You have no idea what we’re going through! You live in your perfect little word, your reputation intact, with parents who can grant your every wish, with a brother who can do whatever he wants! And without worrying about people trying to make your life a living hell! _Shut the fuck up for once_!”

Kyle scowled, but didn’t know how to retort. Each word stung him like little drops of poison. Kenny had always been the type of guy who knew exactly _what_ to say and _when_ to say it to hurt somebody’s feelings. He was too observant and too aware of others’ weaknesses. Kyle could only hope that Kenny hadn’t wanted to humiliate him that much, but even in that case, it wouldn’t make his words any less true. Kyle was better off than Kenny - always had been - and he had taken advantage of his (well, his parents’) money on more than one occasion. Kevin’s resignation flashed through his mind. Would Kevin McCormick have had it easier, had he not been the lowest man on the totem pole? Maybe Kyle had underestimated how bad things would be in the McCormick family now that Kevin wasn’t there to help them out. Or maybe Kyle was focusing too much on the economical part of the equation and disregarding the effects of such a criminal record could have on the whole family. Or maybe… Damn. Kenny was right. Kyle had no idea what he was talking about. 

What did he know about the McCormicks anyway? 

Still, he wasn’t going to apologize for worrying. 

While Kyle collected his thoughts, Kenny played with the bubbly water as if nothing was wrong. Kyle wanted to get mad at him for that so fucking badly, for hurting him and not regretting it at all. His whole body tensed up, ready for an upcoming fist fight, but his mind refused to act on his impulses. No. The tension in his shoulders _begged_ to be ironed out in another way. Kyle had no idea how, and frankly, he was afraid to find out. 

This was no time for fighting. Kyle needed to swallow his pride and give reason to Kenny’s behavior. He should apologize, _right there and then_. But should he? And what for? He hated to see Kenny sad. He hated how his friend turned to alcohol to forget all about Kevin’s imprisonment and whatever his family was going through at that moment. He couldn’t apologize for fretting over him, for missing him...

Yes, missing him. 

Kyle had missed him. It had been the first time Kyle realized how inconceivable Kenny’s absence could be, how freaking unreal it could feel, like something going against the laws of nature. Their friendship has always had its ups and downs and surely, there had been instances where Kenny had completely vanished from Kyle’s daily routine _for months_ and Kyle didn’t notice. But that was then, before shit hit the fan, before Cartman and Butters were wiped out of the equation, before… before… Kyle couldn’t pinpoint exactly when Kenny had become such an essential part of his reality. Has it always been that way? Has his perception of reality changed? Because this time, it felt different. It wasn’t like those times where Kenny missed school for weeks because he worked part-time to make ends meet. Kyle hadn’t cared back then. This time, however, Kyle had yearned for him so much that every second without him had felt like… like… a little death, like someone was giving him the chance to experience how floating in infinite darkness was like, until Kenny was nearby again. Ah, what the hell. He needed to get a grip on himself. He really was losing his mind if he was having such ridiculous thoughts. 

“You’re scary when you’re silent.” Kenny abruptly pulled him back to reality. “Aren’t you going to hit me, or something?”

“Of course not.”

“What are you thinking of, Ky?” 

The way Kenny spoke his nickname made his chest ache. 

“I don’t want to lose you to alcohol.” Kyle’s words bounced against the marble tiles. The air became heavy with electricity and anticipation as he waited for Kenny’s comeback. 

“You’re not losing me to alcohol.”

“Stan almost died once. You remember that, don’t you?”

The slow, _whooshi_ng noises of the water were incredibly loud in the brief silence that followed.

“Have you ever thought about death, Kyle?”

The question took the redhead completely aback. Kyle tried to meet Kenny’s eyes, but the blonde just dove further into the hot tub. Absentmindedly, Kenny raised a hand in front of his nose, and Kyle caught himself staring at the faint horizontal lines on Kenny’s wrists.

“I probably do a little too much.” 

Kenny’s words were like a gunshot muffled by a cushion: barely audible but destructive all the same. Lightheaded, Kyle swallowed a lump in his throat. 

“Kenny, if there is something you want to talk about…”

“I hope I will die an old man.” Kenny turned around, and Kyle found himself face-to-face with a smiling Kenny again. “I didn’t want to worry you, dude. Shit happened.”

“It’s fine.” Heart galloping, Kyle tried hard to calm himself down, but to no avail. What Kenny said next made it even worse. 

“I missed you.” 

At that, a cold shiver trickled down Kyle’s spine. His heart stopped beating. The heated gaze was back on Kenny’s face, his nose an inch away from Kyle’s. If only he had the courage to tilt his head and press his lips on Kenny’s… He wanted to. It was disturbing how much he wanted to. 

“I need the bathroom.” Voice cracking, Kyle bolted to his feet, blushing madly when Kenny let out an amused snort.

“You’re in the right place,” Kenny said, motioning around them. 

“Yeah, well, I am not going to pee in front of you,” Kyle rushed to say and made a beeline for the door. “Don’t drown while I’m gone.”

Kenny laughed, and Kyle shut the door loudly behind him. 

As he put some distance between himself and Kenny, it became easier to breathe. His mind, however, kept going back to Kenny soaking in his hot bath, and Kyle had to literally pinch himself a couple of times in a row to get his shit together. He wasn’t lying when he said he needed to go to the bathroom, but it wasn’t as compelling as the need to get away from Kenny had been. Jesus _Christ_. The amount of times Kyle had wanted to do… stuff! Weird stuff. Stuff he had wanted to do with Rebecca, but not quite, because this time, it felt much more exciting and - ! No. No. No. No! It was inappropriate, that's what it was. First of all, Kenny was a _friend_, a boy, and very much into girls at that (see Kelly ‘Sexy Legs’, damn her), and secondly, he wasn’t having a great time right now, which meant that him trying to do… stuff counted as taking advantage, right? Right. And Kenny wouldn’t approve, right? 

Right. 

Kyle was losing his mind over here. He seriously needed to get his priorities straight. 

Straight. 

Kyle groaned loudly. 

Opening the first door just to do something with his hands, Kyle almost screeched in fright when he saw Token’s face, illuminated by blue light in an otherwise dark room. 

“You need something?” Token asked, taking out one earbud. For a few moments, Kyle blinked at the computer screen, trying to make out what a man in a white coat was writing on a blackboard, before he gave up and took a look around instead. The first thing Kyle noticed was that Token had redecorated his bedroom since the last time he’d been there. Where once there was an empty wall was now an immense bookcase filled with books of all kinds. His basketball posters had moved to the other side of the room, and his Ferrari bed had been replaced by a much more classic, wooden king-sized bed. 

Coughing to catch Kyle’s attention, Token paused the video and asked: “Are you two done?”

“Kenny is still marinating in the hot tub,” Kyle answered absentmindedly, taking a book off the bookshelf to read the summary on the back. 

“He’s having fun, is he?” 

Kyle put the book down to give him his undivided attention. Token gave him a good look-over, pausing a moment to stare at his red, obviously dry hair. “You didn’t join him?”

“Why should I?” Immediately on the defensive, Kyle felt his shoulders tensing when Token shrugged, nonchalant. 

“You look like you’re in a dire need of a relaxing bath, that’s all.”

Kyle sat down on the edge of Token’s bed. He bended forward slightly so he could rest his elbows on his knees and weaved his fingers together, suddenly nervous. 

“I’m doing fine.”

“You’ve been a wreck since Cartman died, admit it,” Token said, straightforward. “You two were close, after all. Everyone can tell how lost you’re feeling now that he’s suddenly gone.”

Biting his lip angrily, Kyle dropped his gaze to his feet. “I don’t feel… _lost_! That’s bullshit.”

“Whatever you say, man.”

“You know I couldn’t stand Cartman! I’m actually happy he’s gone!”

“Are you?” Token arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “In that case, good for you. I didn’t like the guy, but I don’t think he deserved that. Let alone Butters. Sure, Butters had always been a pain in the ass, but he was a nice guy underneath it all. These past events made me really wonder what I’m doing with my life, to be honest.”

Trying to hold back his sarcastic smile - and failing - Kyle glanced around Token’s room. “I think you’re faring pretty well.”

“You know what I mean.” Token rolled his eyes. “Cartman and Butters _were killed_, and by Kenny’s brother no less. How surreal is that?” 

Kyle wanted to tell him he was wrong. What would Token do if he knew that it wasn’t Kevin who killed Cartman, but a werewolf? For a couple of seconds, Kyle envisioned Token’s terrified expression, if he did. He could almost savor the taste of victory he would get from it. Because then Token would understand that Kyle wasn’t feeling lost because of Cartman’s death (what a preposterous idea!) - but because his perception of reality had been distorted. Kyle had hit a point of no return, where the only thing he could do was move forwards and mourn his innocence. 

Token sighed. “I almost regret my decision to stay in South Park and attend an online bachelor’s degree, really. I should have joined Timmy and Jimmy out of here and into the real world. Only South Park’s townspeople would blame the Slenderman and change their mind when a homeless guy accidentally finds the murder weapon. Their perception of life is screwed at best.”

At those words, Kyle’s shoulders slumped. To tell Token the truth would be immensely cruel. Even if neither of them would ever admit it out loud, they were similar in a lot of ways. The only difference was that Token still had a chance at a bright future. Something Kyle couldn’t even fathom anymore. 

“South Park is not the city with the smartest population, Token,” Kyle said with a snort, and Token’s lips quivered upwards. 

“Don’t you think that only the kids have some brains at all? That’s the impression I get, anyway. What if the water is poisoned, and you lose brain cells with age?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it were.” Kyle grinned widely, and Token laughed. 

“Maybe I should reconsider what I want to do with my future. I’ve never really fit in here, and it’s going to get worse with time. Honestly? I am surprised you stayed too.”

Kyle shifted his attention to his hands again. “I just took a Sabbatical. At the first opportunity, I’ll flee this fucking town.”

Token hummed. “I guess Stan won’t mind. But what about Kenny?” 

Kyle swallowed hard. “Kenny won’t mind either.”

“If you say so.” Token spun around in his office chair. He shot a quick glance at his paused video before reverting his attention back on Kyle. “He seems particularly fond of you.”

“We’ve been… friends for a long time, Token, you know that.” 

Token nodded. “Yeah, the Incredible Four. It’s impossible to forgive some of the shit you put the whole class through,” he said with a little sardonic laugh, which faded out soon after. “But now that Cartman’s gone, I really pity you guys.” 

Kyle gazed up at him, his heart skipping a beat when he noticed the compassionate glint in those chestnut eyes. Feeling suddenly uneasy, Kyle decided to completely ignore Token’s last sentence. 

“We weren’t always to blame, though.”

“Yeah, sometimes it was Clyde’s fault.”

At that, Kyle snorted hard and Token soon followed his example.

“Remember when he found that decapitated sparrow?” Token asked when their laughter subsided. “He still talks about it sometimes.”

Furrowing his eyebrows pensively, Kyle asked: “Does he remember what day it was?”

“Not really. The main focus of his story is him discovering it under the slides,” Token answered, surprised. “Why?”

Kyle shrugged. “No reason.”

“You sound just like Wendy now,” Token said. At Kyle’s quizzical expression, he elaborated: “She was really curious about the case of the dead animals. I think she wrote down the dates in her diary, or something. She always had it with her whenever we discovered one.” 

“Seriously? Why would Wendy take notes on something like that?”

“You understand Wendy better than I do, Kyle.” Token shrugged. “I never thought they were anything worth researching. My safest bet is that it was someone’s twisted idea of a joke.” 

Kyle thought Token’s words over. Could Wendy be the answer to everything? Could she be the key to the werewolf’s identity? Just like Token, Kyle had never given those animals much thought either. But here Wendy was, beating him to it again, realizing there was more than met the eye long before Cartman died. 

“Those dead animals were really something,” Token said, pulling Kyle’s wandering mind into the present. “But to me, it was Cartman that stood out the most, to be honest. Every time something like that happened, he would casually mention how Kenny wasn’t there to enjoy such a discovery.”

That piqued Kyle’s interest. He stared at Token for a long, silent moment, trying to categorize that new detail into his mind, before he dared to ask: 

“Do you remember Kenny missing school those days?” 

“Nope. But it’s been a long time.” 

Kyle tried to cast his mind back. He vaguely remembered Token finding a pig’s leg, or Craig walking into class and flatly declaring there was a dead sheep in the schoolyard before sitting down at his desk and taking out his astronomy book. Even the first animal they found - a rabbit - was nothing but a blurry memory. And as much as he tried, he had no recollection of Kenny ever being anywhere nearby. 

“By the way, I think you should go check in on him,” Token said, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. “I’d hate to explain his floating corpse to my parents.”

“Yeah.” Kyle shot up to his feet again. He clenched and unclenched his fists, setting his gaze everywhere but on Token. “Do you mind if I use one of your restrooms first? Floating corpse or not, I don’t want to pee in front of Kenny.”

Token arched his eyebrow high at that, but showed him the way to the guest bathroom without batting an eye. 

Kyle could only guess he had heard worse from Clyde. 

***

Kenny hadn’t died in the hot tub. On the contrary. When the two barged into Mr. and Mrs. Black’s private bathroom, Kenny was curled up, fully clothed, against the sink and was sleeping the sleep of the just. No matter how loud Kyle shouted his name, Kenny didn’t stir once. Eventually, Token asked Alfred, the Black’s private driver, to take them home. 

During the ride back to the Broflovskis’, Kyle sat on the backseat with Kenny’s head in his lap. 

And if Alfred caught him caressing Kenny’s blonde hair from the rearview mirror, Kyle was in too deep to notice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @LWTIS for being such an awesome supporter and beta!  
And of course, all my love to everyone who kudo-ed and liked my stories so far. <3


	9. Down the rabbit hole

_**To**: w.testaburger@spmail.com_

_**Subject**: Dead animals’ case_

_Hey Wendy, _

_Remember when we used to find sliced-up animals all over our school’s playground? Token told me you used to write a diary about these cases. Did you write anything interesting in there? I want to know if you have kept a record of the dates. _

_Thanks._

_K. _

_*_

_**To**: k.brof0101@spmail.com_

_**Subject**: Re: Dead animals’ case_

_Dear Kyle, _

_First of all, thank you very much for asking how I am and for being so interested in my wellbeing and in my life on campus so far. I was utterly surprised by your gentlemanly manners and I sure am delighted that you haven’t lost your diplomatic streak. _

_But now to the matter at hand - I used to keep a journal, not a diary. There is a huge difference. In any case, I don’t understand why you’re suddenly bringing it up. Thinking back on it, the dead animals’ case was a complete waste of everyone’s time and I still wonder why we even cared back then. It is so obvious that it was a psycho’s doing, a desperate plea for attention, claiming victims among innocent wildlife creatures. This person deserves to go to jail for barbaric crimes against nature, if you want my opinion. Why do you need my journal on it? Do you need something in particular?_

_Oh, and my condolences for Cartman’s death. I know you didn’t care enough about Butters, but it’s awful what happened to him too. I sent the Stotches a condolences card. I wonder if they have received it yet. Bebe keeps me up-to-date with all the current South Park news. Washington, DC, is not as exciting. Thank God. _

_Greetings, _

_Wendy_

_P.S. How is Stan doing?_

_*_

_**To**: w.testaburger@spmail.com_

_**Subject**: Re:Re:Dead animals’ case_

_Dear Wendy, _

_How are you? I hope you are doing great and having a blast at Georgetown University. I’m sure you are top of your class and made a lot of friends who are just as charming as you. _

_I want the dates, Wendy. The dates. _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Kyle Broflovski_

_P.S. Ask him yourself. _

_*_

_**To**: k.brof0101@spmail.com_

_**Subject**: Re:Re:Re: Dead animals’ case_

_Dear Kyle, _

_How did you know I am indeed top of my class and that I’ve made wonderful friends? I haven’t even started yet, and my professor has already suggested a couple of Master Degrees I could pursue in the future. _

_What dates? _

_Wendy_

_P.S. I won’t. Last time I tried calling him, he played the guitar for three hours straight on Skype. And he fucking knows I don’t like being serenaded. _

_*_

_**To**: w.testaburger@spmail.com_

_**Subject**: Re:Re:Re:Re:Dead animals’ case_

_Please, Wendy, I need to know which days we found those dead animals. It is a matter of life or death. _

_K. _

_P.S. Lol. Did he really? Ok, I will try to talk to him. _

_*_

_**To**: k.brof0101@spmail.com_

_**Subject**: Scan of journal_

_Seriously, Kyle, why are you always so dramatic? I hardly believe this matter to be as important as you claim it is. Whatever, Kyle. I have no idea what you need this for, but I attached a scan of the first ten pages of my journal. The rest are private thoughts you don’t need to read, completely irrelevant to this case. I don’t know what you’re up to, but I don’t think you should read into it much. I must say, I too was intrigued about the monthly frequency of these… incidents. It was like someone was on their period and went batshit crazy on some poor animals. The fact it was always a day after the full moon confirmed my initial theory that we were dealing with a weirdo who was into black magic and stuff. They probably were a bigger drama queen than you, and that says a lot. My bet is that it was probably a kid who graduated around the time the incidents stopped. _

_Seriously, Kyle, this is a waste of time. _

_Wendy_

_P.S. Stan called me. He talked like a normal human being at last. Whatever you did, thank you. _

_*_

_**To**: w.testaburger@spmail.com_

_**Subject**: Re: Scan of journal_

_Thank you, Wendy. It’s probably nothing, but I needed to confirm something. _

_P.S. You’re welcome. _

_P.P.S. I am not a drama queen. _

_*_

_**To**: k.brof0101@spmail.com_

_**Subject**: Re: Re: Scan of journal_

_I don’t like the sound of that, Kyle. I know you and I don’t like the words ‘confirm something’ from you. Take care of yourself and don’t do anything stupid. _

With a snort, Kyle closed Wendy’s last email and opened the attached PDF. He read through her notes, focusing more on Wendy’s thoughts rather than the raw facts. It was interesting to see how her interest in the case slowly waned over time. On the last page, the sentence _‘psychopath with sadistic tendencies’_ was written in red, underlined. Her last entry was a scribble Kyle had a rough time deciphering.

_06/13/xxxx. A rabbit. Again. This psycho is getting boring. I should stop bothering. _

Before that, however, all her notes had been painstakingly written and straight to the point. Each animal sighting had been recorded attentively. On every page, she neatly wrote the day of discovery in the top right corner, before jotting down who found what and where. South Park students had discovered 72 mauled animals in total, mostly woodland creatures. Although domesticated animals had been discovered as well, no one seemed to have reported their pet missing at the time. Apparently, Wendy had asked around about possible thefts, or any strange sightings during the time of the crime. She had searched the area around the dead animals and once followed a streak of blood that led right into the woods. She also noticed that in the beginning, the animals were small - and that they grew in size with time. 

_01/04/xxxx. School is closed, but I decided to check anyway. No animals. Whoever is doing this, they must be a student. _

Around page 5, Wendy had started noting down the moon phases. Feeling a pang in his heart, Kyle realized she had been getting closer to the truth - finding a link between the full moon and the animals’ deaths - way before anybody else. Had she asked Henrietta Biggle for help, she might have discovered that the culprit wasn’t some random student - but a werewolf. Her skepticism about the supernatural, however, was as strong as Kyle’s had been, and by page 8, she had stopped bothering with the moon altogether. 

_03/05/xxxx. A decapitated fox. Just like with the other victims, the heart is missing._

_09/09/xxxxx. No one is taking this seriously. I shouldn’t be either, but Cartman’s comments are making me suspicious. He seems to know who the culprit is. His smugness is getting on my nerves. _

Idly scrolling up and down Wendy’s PDF, Kenny’s name suddenly caught Kyle’s attention. 

_03/13/xxxx. Once again, Cartman is talking shit. Kenny was mentioned in his inconclusive rambling twice. Kyle threw the dead squirrel in his face as revenge. Serves him right, but he should have waited until I studied the body first. _

_02/25/xxxx. It’s cold. Token found a pig’s leg. I wonder where the rest of the body is. _

_10/18/xxxx. I hate to admit this, but Cartman is right. Kenny is nowhere to be found._

Heart aching, Kyle closed the file and opened his Excel table instead. He didn’t want to read any further. He had what he needed to start filling in the dates in the empty column next to the list of animals. Using all the tools at his disposal, he double-checked whether there was a full moon the day before each discovery, although Wendy had already done so. There was. His throat went suddenly dry. 

Cartman and Wendy had seen the truth way before Kyle did. But whereas Wendy didn’t believe in the supernatural and gave up, Cartman had not. He had found the link between the animal abuser and the werewolf. He had beaten Kyle to it. He had managed to track down the werewolf - whoever it was - and despite having such exciting news, he decided to keep it to himself.

_“I don’t think he was seeking out trouble. Geez, Kyle, you know how Cartman was. He was a coward. To be honest, I’ve never seen him so excited about something. He would have probably wanted to rub his discovery in your face, once he got proof of it, that is.”_

Butters’ words were like white noise inside his brain, so loud they ached. 

Probably trying to get proof, Cartman decided to interrogate someone close to the werewolf the day he died. He was a coward and would have never taken on a werewolf by himself, and on a full moon at that. (And did he know it was a full moon? And why did he choose that day? Questions. Questions. Questions.) So. Cartman was a coward and he took the shortcut. Ask the werewolf’s friend - not the werewolf. Blackmail the friend - not the werewolf. But here’s the deal. Cartman _thought_ he knew who the werewolf was. He lured and trapped someone he _thought_ was close to the werewolf in his own house. Unbeknown to him, Cartman had lured and trapped the _werewolf_ in his own house. 

The question was, who was the person Cartman thought was not the werewolf? 

Kyle stared at his screen - as if the answer was right there, hidden between the fields of his Excel file - but all he could see were his blurred memories and Wendy’s carefully recorded dates. 

A knock on his door pulled him out of his reverie. He turned towards his father hesitantly peering into the room. 

“Do you know where Ike is? He’s been gone since morning,” Gerald said. His face made it very obvious that Ike’s whereabouts were not his concern at all. Kyle shrugged, knowing very well that wasn’t what his dad wanted from him. 

“Anyway, I’d like to disappear too,” Gerald shot a quick glance over his shoulder before lowering his voice down a notch. “Your mother is being bitchier than usual, and I desperately want to disappear into my studio to finish some stuff I have to do.” 

Kyle didn’t expect an explanation as to what kind of stuff he needed to do exactly. He knew Gerald would lie to him anyway, so he impatiently waited for his father to continue. 

“She’s fretting in the kitchen, giving out orders. This time, it’s milk. Please Kyle, can you go to the grocery store in my place?” 

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” 

Gerald’s gaze flickered towards Kyle’s computer. “Your mother won’t be happy at all if she finds out you are not searching for a good college to apply to.” Kyle grimaced. Gerald shrugged and made to leave the room. “Whatever. I’ll be in my studio with my earphones on. You deal with her yourself.” 

“Fine,” Kyle snapped. Swiftly, he switched his PC off and jumped to his feet. “Give me some money and I’m outta here.” 

“Good boy.” With a wide grin, Gerald handed Kyle a twenty-dollar bill. “Buy milk and treat yourself to a Playboy magazine, or something. God knows you need to let off some steam.” 

“Dad!” 

“But follow my advice, stay out of the house as long as you can. Let her anger boil over.” 

Kyle rolled his eyes. “What did you do?” 

“Nothing, nothing.” Gerald took a step towards the hall, but then turned to face Kyle again. “And bring Ike home, if you happen to see him. You know your mother doesn’t like it when you two sneak out without telling her anything.” 

That said, he quickly left Kyle alone and retreated to his studio. His happy whistle was soon followed by a door being locked twice, leaving Kyle alone with his thoughts and a twenty-dollar bill in his hands.

Oh, well. He did need a distraction. 

But he was going to keep the change for the trouble.

Idiot.

Smiling evilly to himself, Kyle made his way to the closest grocery store in the neighborhood. It was a pitiful corner store that had nothing to offer but sad-looking vegetables, frozen pizzas and canned food. It was good enough for the milk his mother wanted, and it was far enough to allow Kyle sort through his thoughts while he walked. Mind clogged up by Wendy’s neat letters on perfect white paper, Kyle didn't pay any attention to his surroundings, let alone to the people walking on the sidewalk with him. That was why, when the unthinkable happened, his usually quick reflexes betrayed him - and Kyle almost fell on his ass when a tall body was pushed into his embrace with incredible force. 

“Watch it!”

“Fuck!”

_“Kyle.”_

Much later, in a future that Kyle couldn’t see the end of yet, he would reflect on that day endlessly. The question of what would have happened, if he had just stayed the fuck at home, would haunt him for a very long time. When it happened, however, Kyle was too annoyed by the corvine hair tickling his nose to pay any heed to the pleading way his name had been called. He didn’t even look up to see who knew him by first name, too busy trying to shove that heavy body off him. 

Grabbing the younger boy by the shoulders and pushing him off, Kyle let out a loud oh of surprise when he came face-to-face with none other than Ike himself. His brother rushed to back away from the accidental hug. Feigning nonchalance, he brushed the invisible dirt from his clothes and straightened the collar of his jacket, all whilst taking careful steps to slide behind Kyle’s back. Surprised, Kyle tore his gaze away and shot an irritated glare at whoever had pushed his brother into his arms. 

_“Kyle.”_

“Kenny?!”

The blonde narrowed his eyes into slits. With a start, Kyle recognized the expression that a drunk Cartman had once admitted being scared shitless of. The same expression Kyle had never thought would be directed at him – or at any of his family members, not even at his dad, who was widely known for being a huge ass and a troll. 

Kyle was too confused about the sudden twist of events to come up with a logical explanation for Kenny’s anger. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder at Ike, heart racing when he saw Ike staring back at Kenny just as heatedly. 

Inadvertently, Kyle took a step closer to his brother. “Are you drunk again?” 

Looking feral and ready to pounce, Kenny clenched his hands into fists. With great difficulty, he shifted his gaze onto Kyle. 

“Did you know about this, Kyle?” 

Kenny took a couple of slow steps towards him, shoulders pulled back and tense. Kyle licked his lips. His heart was galloping against his ribcage, but he willed himself to stay exactly where he was. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Kenny’s azure eyes were focused and strangely bright. Lips pressed tight together, he unclenched his fingers for a moment, only to roll them back into fists. Kyle could sense the scent of danger, but - weirdly enough - it did little to lessen the allure. Kenny didn’t stink of alcohol. He didn’t stutter. He didn’t waver. His confidence took Kyle aback completely, in a very confusing way. 

He wanted to turn around and ask Ike for an explanation - but at the same time, he was paralyzed to the spot. Kenny loomed, infuriatingly close, but Kyle wasn’t one to back down from a fight, even when he had no clue what triggered Kenny to itch for one. Jaw clenching, he allowed Kenny to move closer and closer until they were just a breath away from pressing foreheads.

“I don’t know what sick games you are playing, but keep your fucking brother away from my sister,” Kenny hissed in his face. 

“What are you talking about?” he enunciated between gritted teeth. The atmosphere grew heavy. Their proximity sent a shiver down Kyle’s spine. 

“Your brother is dating Karen, you fucker! Dating being a stretch,” Kenny pushed him and finally broke the intense eye contact to stare at Ike, who stood beside them in uncharacteristic silence. “I don’t want to see him near Karen ever again. Or I’ll strangle him with my own hands, got it?”

Jaw dropping in surprise, Kyle gave Kenny a brief look-over before turning towards Ike. His brother returned the stare, eyes glinting with determination. Although Kyle had never seen Ike afraid of anything, he would go as far as to say his silence was due to fear. He couldn’t blame him. Kenny seemed ready to tear Ike in half. 

“Since when have you been so possessive?” Kyle asked, pulling Kenny away from his brother forcefully. The blonde let himself be manhandled, but shoved him off him as soon as they were at a safe distance from Ike. “They are dating, so what?” Kyle continued, letting his gaze flicker to Ike before focusing on Kenny’s profile again. When he realized Kenny had no intention to meet his eyes, Kyle grabbed his parka’s sleeve and tugged. 

_“So what?”_ Kenny hissed, reluctantly facing Kyle head-on. “I know how you Broflovskis are.” He pressed a finger on Kyle’s chest and pushed hard enough to make Kyle stagger. “And I don’t trust that smartass brother of yours in the least. Whatever he’s playing at, tell him to stop or I’ll do it myself.”

At those words, all of Kyle’s attempts at keeping his cool shut off. He slapped Kenny’s hand away and abruptly stepped back into the blonde’s personal bubble. 

“This is big, coming from you! Karen is big enough to know the story about the birds and the bees, you donkey ass!”

Kenny rolled his eyes and snorted. “Do you really think this is about sex?”

“Then what is it about?!” Kyle shouted. Kenny looked away and didn’t answer. Kyle groaned - loudly. “Ike, go back home.”

Blinking in shock, Ike finally let his stoic façade drop. 

“But - !” Ike immediately complained. 

“Ike, go home. _Now_.”

The sudden fear in his brother’s dark eyes caught Kyle by surprise, but he was too angry, too thirsty for a fight to do anything about it. The logical part of his brain screamed at him to take Ike home and show Kenny the middle finger. The logical part of his brain was not involved in this, though. Kyle’s feelings were, and he felt too overwhelmed by them to care about compromises and talking things over with Kenny. Talk what over, anyway? Kenny’s words had hurt his pride, stabbed his heart and made a fucking mess of it on the pavement. 

Kenny shifted his gaze back on Kyle again. His chest was rising and falling in rapid succession, following the rhythm of his frantic breathing. Kyle hated how fascinating it was. 

“Are you still there?” Kyle asked, eyes boring into Kenny’s azure ones. Ike _hmph_ed, and Kyle waited until his footsteps vanished into the distance before rounding on Kenny. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! What’s the fuck is this story about you knowing how Broflovskis are?”

“This is not about you, Kyle,” Kenny said, voice falsely calm. “Don’t make everything about you, _like always_.”

“Ha! Is it not?!” Kyle hissed. Anger seethed within him, ready to blow up. “Am I not a Broflovski too? What the fuck was that all about then? You don’t want Ike to go out with Karen just because he’s a Broflovski, or _what?_ Explain yourself!” 

The piercing stare Kenny gave him upset Kyle even more. 

“I know how you think,” Kenny said, obviously struggling to not raise a hand against Kyle. “So I know how Ike Broflovski thinks. And I don’t like it in the least.” 

That made Kyle laugh - a hollow, bitter sound.

“What do you mean?” Kyle stepped even closer, his chest almost smacking against Kenny’s. “If you think we, as a family, always have ulterior motives, then fuck you, Kenny. I thought you were better than that.”

“You know very well what I meant - !” Kenny started but snapped his mouth shut. Kyle could almost see whatever he wanted to say next dying on the other’s lips. The sudden defensiveness was like a stab through the heart. This was not the time to cry, but Kyle felt tears prickling at the corner of his eyes and he hated it. He hated it so fucking much and he hated Kenny too. 

“That Ike Broflovski is not good enough for Karen McCormick?” Kyle asked, swallowing a lump in his throat when Kenny bit his bottom lip hard. “Or better yet, that a _Broflovski_ is not good enough for a _McCormick_, is that it?” 

Kenny kept silent. The urge to hit him, to do _something_ with his hands became stronger, more pressing.

_“Is that it?!”_ Kyle shouted, shoving Kenny away to get any kind of reaction out of him. Kenny stumbled backwards, but regained his balance almost immediately. “Talk, you motherfucker!” Kenny didn’t. Kyle’s anger surged. His mind shut down. Kyle pushed Kenny again, sending his friend flailing backwards. He did it once more, just to feel in control of the situation, but when Kenny did not fight back, he turned sour instead.

“Will you fucking say something?” 

In that moment, just as Kyle made to push Kenny away again, the blonde grabbed Kyle by the collar with incredible speed. Eyes locked onto Kyle’s, he violently dragged the redhead down a dark alley and slammed him against the closest surface. 

“If you had the vaguest idea what you do to me, Kyle, you would know that’s not it.”

Kyle’s fingers slithered around Kenny’s wrist, around the hand holding the fabric of Kyle’s jacket so tight it was going to rip. He felt Kenny’s hectic pulse under his fingers. He felt Kenny’s muscles tense and relax and tense again. They were standing too close; no air in between. Kyle could feel the warmth emanating from Kenny’s whole body. The rough surface of the wall scraped his shoulder blades. It wasn’t comfortable in the least, but Kyle had no intention of getting Kenny off him. 

Strangely enough, having their bodies tangled up in this weird position calmed him down. Or had it been Kenny’s words? He had no idea. He didn’t care. Or he did care, but his thoughts were too jumbled to realize how much he did care. Fact was that Kyle didn’t feel angry anymore. Kenny’s wrist was hot against his palm. Kenny’s body was tense against his own. Kyle had to move away. He had to push Kenny away, _now._

“I do know,” he said softly, the words escaping his lips before he could think them over. Finally, lamentably, Kenny’s gaze dropped down to Kyle’s fingers around his wrist. As if burned, he let go and took a big step backwards to let Kyle breathe. The blonde swallowed. His Adam’s apple rose and fell. Licking his suddenly dry lips, Kyle grasped at the wall as if not to fall.

“Kenny.” Kyle tried to keep Kenny’s attention on him, but it was in vain. The blonde fidgeted, balling his hands into fists before relaxing them again. The tension could be cut with a knife and Kyle had to do something, anything, to make Kenny stay, before he fled, before-! 

“Ike is not going to take Karen away from you,” Kyle said after taking a deep breath. 

At last, Kenny fixed his gaze on Kyle’s face. “I need her, Kyle,” he whispered. The few seconds as Kenny searched for his next words felt like an eternity. “She’s suffering so much, and I don’t know what to do. I am supposed to be the older brother, you know. And she’s being so… so… I can’t let Ike near her. Not in this state.”

“He won’t hurt her,” Kyle said. His right arm moved on its own, tugging at Kenny’s parka and pulling him closer again. Kenny’s whimper of surprise made Kyle realize just what he had done. A shiver ran down his spine. It was too late. Kyle wasn’t going to let him go. As if he could read Kyle’s thoughts, Kenny stepped into his personal bubble again. Curiosity flashed across his face, eyebrows arched in a golden curve. He gently pushed Kyle against the wall, pinning him there once more and gazed at him in amazement. Kyle didn’t take his eye off him. 

But just when their perfectly aligned bodies brushed against each other, Kenny jolted, broke eye contact and abruptly pulled away. 

“I need to go.” Voice strained, Kenny made to pull the hood over his head. 

“No.”

Kenny turned to look at him. Hand still fisted tight in Kenny’s parka, Kyle pulled him back into his embrace. He swallowed. There was no way out of this. Kyle needed the contact. He needed Kenny near. And so - without thinking, without giving a damn about the consequences - he grabbed the blonde’s face and crushed their mouths together. 

A sigh of relief escaped Kyle’s throat when Kenny’s lips parted. The sudden panic at the realization _he_ had been the one initiating the kiss was immediately pushed to the back of his mind. He didn’t care. Kenny searched for a more comfortable position, tilting his head and deepening the kiss with force, as if he wanted to melt into Kyle and get lost in his body. Inebriating. Kenny’s scent was inebriating. Kyle let go of his face and glided his fingers up and into Kenny’s hair. They parted. Kyle got a glimpse of that small, round scar on Kenny’s temple before he closed his eyes again and pulled him back into a kiss, immersing himself in darkness in a desperate search for more skin, more contact, more of Kenny’s whole being. 

How long has Kyle wanted this? How long ago did Kenny stop being his childhood friend and became _this_? How long have his lips longed for the other’s touch? 

For the love of God, they were making out in a dark alley - how cliché - not far from the street, not far from Kyle’s house, and Kyle didn’t give a damn. He couldn’t give a flying fuck if his mother walked by, if his father walked by, if Ike walked by, if the whole word walked by and stared and took pictures and said _‘you know Kyle Broflovski? You should have seen him yesterday’_. Upload his picture all over the internet, for all he cared. Fuck reputation. He survived a werewolf attack. He could survive the taunting looks, but fuck if he could survive another day without Kenny. Fuck the werewolf. Fuck this case. Fuck Wendy and fuck Cartman who made him go on a wild goose chase. Fuck his fears. Fuck this town. Fuck everything. He just wanted more. More of Kenny’s heavy breathing. More of Kenny’s hand around his neck, pulling him closer, taking control and directing the kiss. More of Kenny’s hair through his fingers. More of that exhilarating feeling of not being in control for once. Just more. More of this. He felt finally alive. Alive and breathing. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. _Alive!_

And if only he could say _fuck_ to that fucking survival instinct that made them both pull apart and gasp for air. 

“Uhm…”

Kyle slumped against the wall, eyes going wide at the realization of what he had done - what he had let himself think. Kenny pulled away, looking just as disheveled as him. 

And fuck if Kyle didn’t want to kiss him again. 

No. 

Calm down. 

Licking his lips, Kyle wondered why Kenny wasn’t saying anything. Gaze dropping to Kyle’s tongue, Kenny looked too stunned to move. 

What the fuck. What the fuck. _What the fuck._ This was Kenny fucking McCormick he was talking about. He should feel grossed out for tasting another’s saliva in his mouth. No. Kenny’s saliva in his mouth. No. _His childhood friend’s_ saliva in his mouth. _Hello? _His friend, who had a brother in jail for murder, who had two alcoholic parents to take care of - plus a baby sister, who was probably at loggerheads with the current situation and wasn’t make things any easier by being a normal teenager with needs. 

Oh, fuck. Needs. Kyle needed to stop thinking - but what good would that do when the last time he stopped thinking, he completely lost control and kissed Kenny? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He had to stand up, look at Kenny in the eye and say: _“This was a mistake.”_

What he uttered instead was: 

“Uhm…” 

Kenny shifted his gaze back on Kyle’s face. He licked his swollen, red lips, coughed once - looked ready to run in the other direction. The blush that crawled up Kyle’s neck was totally uncalled for. 

“Uhm…” 

“Wow, Kyle,” Kenny said, breaking the sudden awkward silence. Kyle’s attention was once more focused on Kenny’s lips and the way they tugged up into a lopsided smile. “You added tongue this time.” 

Kyle was too caught up in that fucking mouth to immediately understand what Kenny was hinting at. “Huh?” 

Kenny’s grin grew wider. “You followed my tip.” 

Understanding hit him like a ton of bricks. Kyle patted the wall against his back, as if to make sure it was still there and hadn’t collapsed over him yet. He tried to stand straighter, but his knees buckled under his own weight. 

“If you are going to be a smartass right now, Kenny, I swear to God!” Kyle exclaimed, anger painting his already flushed cheeks redder. Kenny laughed – but he sounded strained, scared. 

Understanding smoothed out the crease between Kyle’s eyebrows. He finally managed to stand straight. His knees were shaking lightly but his emotions were completely different. Slowly, Kenny’s laughter quieted down. 

“I should go.” Suddenly bashful, Kenny gestured at the street behind him. “Sorry about Ike and stuff. Whatever. Just… just keep an eye on him.” 

The blonde pulled his hood over his head and shoved his hand into his pockets. His feet staggered backwards. He hesitated and stopped. Kyle quickly glanced around. Some passers-by walked up and down the street, their heads lowered and minding their own business. As if mimicking them, Kenny too dropped his gaze on the pavement and started walking away. 

Kyle’s hand moved before he could think. He grabbed Kenny’s arm and pulled him back. “No, wait! We need to talk!” 

“Are we really going to do this here, Kyle?” Kenny asked, sounding exhausted. “I know what you’re gonna say! That you don’t swing that way and this was just - !” 

“You don’t know anything!” Kyle shushed him. Arching his eyebrow, Kenny stared at him with an eager, expectant expression on his face. That heated gaze was back, and it would have been a lie to say Kyle didn’t love it so freaking much? It was embarrassing. _He was embarrassing. _What the hell was he going to do? He should walk away and pretend that this didn’t happen, that was what he needed to do. He wanted to give in to the logical part of his brain so much, the one that said he shouldn’t do this, that Kenny was in a tough spot, that they were friends and all that shit that people said to talk themselves out of such kinds of situations, but Kyle couldn’t. He couldn’t and he didn’t want to. And Kenny wasn’t making things any easier, what with the way he looked at him - with those eyes, _those fucking eyes_.

“What do you mean by that?” Kenny asked, the sarcasm seeping through his lips and prodding Kyle to act.

Groaning, Kyle grabbed him and shoved him up against the wall. The last thing Kyle thought, before their lips met halfway, was that this time it should feel different. 

The fire should have been less ardent. 

It wasn’t. 

It grew stronger. 

***

When Kyle returned home later, he swiftly shoved the carton of milk in the fridge and rushed up the stairs before his parents could notice him. He wanted to stay alone in his room and sort his feelings out, despite knowing it would prove to be a difficult, if not pointless, task. 

He was walking past Ike’s room when his brother pulled the door open and stared at him, eyes wide. Kyle fidgeted and attempted to relax his body up to the next step. 

“Are you okay?” Ike asked, giving him a thoughtful look-over. He lingered on Kyle’s messy hair and rumpled jacket a moment longer than necessary. “Did you fight? Are you hurt?” 

Kyle immediately shook his head. “No, we… settled it.” 

Ike’s shoulders relaxed, his typical devil-may-care expression back in full force. “Good.” He shifted his weight from one leg to another. “Your BF is a psycho.” 

Trying hard to let the word _‘BF’_ slip, Kyle turned to face Ike head on. “He’s going through a lot. But it’s all good now.” 

Ike snorted. “No, it’s not.” He looked off into the distance for a couple of seconds before he sighed and ran a hand through his black hair. “I’m sorry you two fought over me.” 

“It’s alright,” Kyle rushed to say, embarrassment overwhelming him. He swallowed a lump in his throat and scratched his head. “I never would have thought you and Karen - !” 

“Kenny was right,” Ike interrupted, catching Kyle by surprise. “I should break up with her. Immediately.” 

“What?” Frowning, Kyle ushered Ike into the latter’s room and closed the door behind them. “Did he really frighten you that much? I didn’t think you were one to give in to pressure!” 

Ike shook his head. With a snort, he dropped down on his bed. “You don’t understand.” Sitting down next to him, Kyle waited. “I… didn’t exactly start with the best intentions with her,” Ike confessed, gaze on his hands. “She’s not really my type. She’s a decade younger than the women I’m into. Plus, she’s flat as a pancake.” He laughed. Kyle rolled his eyes. 

“Seriously?” 

“But she’s cute,” Ike continued, his smirk slowly softening. “And a badass. Kyle, I’ve seriously never met a more badass girl in my life. And her eyes. You should see her eyes.” 

Kyle felt his grin grow wide. “Oh, something tells me you’re in love!” 

“Do shut up,” Ike snapped and punched Kyle on the arm. The redhead burst out laughing, tears of mirth gathering in the corner of his eyes. Ike groaned and punched him again. “I have no idea why I am telling you all this!” 

“Who are you going to talk about this with then?” Kyle asked, laughing even harder. “With mom? She’s gonna plan your wedding as soon as you tell her.” 

“Brother dear, as you said, I am not the type to give in to pressure,” Ike said, straightening his shoulders with a wide smile. “You, on the other hand… remember when you introduced Rebecca to her?” 

“Don’t remind me. Wait until you bring Karen home and then you’ll understand _the pain._” 

Ike cackled, but the joy on his face slowly disappeared again. “That’s never going to happen, because I am breaking up with her.” 

“But you like her.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Just because Kenny doesn’t approve-!”

“You don’t understand. Her brother is a-!”

“Angry? Of course he’s angry!” Kyle exclaimed. “We’re talking about his baby sister, who has relied on him since she started walking on her own.” Ike snapped his mouth shut. “Kevin just got locked up and their lives have completely changed for the worse. As if it wasn’t already bad before!”

“Isn’t that just one more reason to break up with her?” Ike reasoned. “There is plenty of fish in the sea.”

“But you like her.” Ike didn’t reply to that. Kyle sighed. “Listen, Kenny will get over it. He just doesn’t want Karen to end up hurt.” 

“Alright.” Ike pushed himself to his feet and made a tentative step towards his desk. He switched his computer on, tapping his fingers on the keyboard absentmindedly before he turned towards him again. His jaw dropped open in surprise. 

“So, all good?” Kyle asked cautiously. 

Ike squinted at his brother. “Is that a hickey?” 

Kyle slapped his hand over his neck. Ike’s eyes glinted. 

“Kyle, Kyle, Kyle,” he started with a toothy grin that seemed to grow bigger the longer Kyle tried to gain his composure. “Is this how you settle things with your… friends?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Kyle shot up and made a bee-line for the door, almost colliding against it. He fumbled for the doorknob and left the room quickly, leaving Ike’s loud laughter behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, A BIG THANK YOU to @LWTIS for being such an awesome beta!  
And thank YOU, my wonderful readers, for sticking with me and loving this rollercoaster of a story. <3


	10. The McCormicks

Kyle had no idea how it came to this. To be honest, the day after the first make out should feel extremely awkward, right? That’s what people said, anyway. But here they were, sitting on Kyle’s bed and talking as if nothing had happened between them. 

Kenny had shown up that morning, earlier than the infamous milkman. He had rung the bell, smiled widely at Sheila when she answered the door, surprising Kyle who just happened to be in the hall at the time. 

Without any kind of greeting, Kyle silently led Kenny upstairs under Sheila’s indecipherable gaze, slipping quietly past Gerald and his arched brows, and softly closed the bedroom door behind them, all while trying to calm his galloping heart. 

When they were finally alone, Kyle turned to face Kenny. The little nervous smile, wavering on the other’s lips, made Kyle’s jaw slack open. He rushed to snap his mouth shut, getting a soft, almost cute snort in response. 

“Hey.” Hood still over his head, Kenny shifted his weight to his right leg. 

“Hey.” Throat dry, Kyle leaned to the left. 

“Doing good?” Looking down, Kenny tentatively licked his bottom lip.

“Great.” Coughing, Kyle cursed his squeaky voice. He tried again. “Super.”

“Good.” Eyes back on Kyle, Kenny smiled. 

“How come you’re so early?” Reaching out, Kyle gently pulled down Kenny’s hood. Messy blond hair tickled his fingertips. 

“I’ve got a job.” A sigh. “I need to save some money on the side.”

“Oh, nice.” Kyle’s hand reached for Kenny’s, pulling the boy towards him. “Where?”

“Shitty Wok.” Kenny’s grin was followed by a nonchalant shrug. “It’s the only place that would ever think of hiring me.”

“That place sucks.” Walking backwards, Kyle’s legs bumped against the edge of his bed. 

“The money’s not so bad, though.” Kenny followed Kyle’s silent order and sat down next to him. 

“What time do you go on-shift?” Kyle’s knees brushed against Kenny’s. 

“At 10.” Kenny’s thumbs caressed Kyle’s knuckles. 

“You could have slept more then.” Kyle’s free hand darted upwards, towards the parka’s zipper. He pulled.

“Oh, you know me. I just can’t wait to wash dishes all day long.” His bark of laughter covered the sound of his jacket unzipping. 

“And taking orders.” Kyle leaned forwards. 

“And taking orders,” Kenny parroted – his voice lowering a notch. 

“Are you sure there weren’t any better jobs out there?” The tip of Kyle’s nose traced a path alongside Kenny’s jawline. 

“I’ve got a proposal for Christmas.” Kenny’s fingers found their way into Kyle’s hair. 

“Huh?” Leaning into Kenny’s touch, Kyle peered into the blonde’s eyes.

“I’ll be our mall’s sexy Santa Claus this year.” A tentative peck on the lips.

“I hope you’re kidding.” Tilting his head rightwards, Kyle’s hand freed itself from Kenny’s hold and slithered between the parka and the boy’s shoulder.

“And I really hope you’ll come see me.” A whisper caressed Kyle’s mouth. 

“And do what?” Lips tugging upwards, Kyle softly kissed Kenny’s chin. And then a spot a little further up. And further up. 

“Guess.” Kenny’s eyes fluttered closed. 

“I’m not going to sit on your lap,” Kyle said before his voice quietened down into a moan. 

The kiss that followed shut them both up. 

Kenny’s parka slipped off his shoulders and onto the floor. Kyle’s hands were everywhere. Kenny grabbed Kyle’s arm and pushed him down, not breaking the contact. Kyle’s arms encircled Kenny’s waist and pulled him even closer. 

“Hey, Kyle!” The doorknob rattled. Kenny jumped to his feet, almost slipping on his parka in the process. “Mom asked if your friend wants-!” Kyle quickly sat up and tried to comb his already unruly hair with his fingers. 

Hand still on the doorknob, Ike froze on the doorstep. He furrowed his eyebrows, stunned gaze flickering between the two of them. 

“If Kenny wants what?” Kyle snapped. Irritated, he stood up and marched to his desk. Kenny tugged his parka on again, cursing through his teeth when he didn’t manage to zip it up on the first couple of tries. 

“If he wants to eat anything,” Ike answered, not bothering to hide the smugness in his voice. Clicking his tongue, he made to leave. “I’ll tell her you’ve got that covered already.” The smirk that accompanied his last words flushed Kyle’s cheeks a nice red shade. 

“Ike, get out!” 

“Steady, lover boy, don’t shoot the messenger.” Grinning widely, Ike raised his hands in defense. “By the way, if things get weird…” He lowered his voice. “I’ve got just what you need in my second drawer, in the hidden compartment.” 

“Will you get the fuck out?!” Kyle exclaimed. He shot a brief glance over his shoulder at Kenny, who was staring at the Einstein poster as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

“Jeez, don’t be an ass! I was trying to be nice.” Ike shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to school. See you later, fucker.” With that, he disappeared down the stairs, leaving Kyle’s door wide open. 

“I hate him,” Kyle muttered with a frown. He threw a worried glance at Kenny, who still had his back turned and was silently staring at the wall. His sloppily put-on parka was slipping down on one side, and all Kyle could see was the reddish hue on Kenny’s nape. Then, suddenly, Kenny’s shoulders started shaking. Flabbergasted, Kyle watched his friend burst into laughter. His reaction was contagious. Soon, Kyle felt his lips crack into a smile too. Cackling like a madman, legit tears of mirth formed in the corners of his eyes, and Kenny turned to face him, grin wide and ridiculously charming. 

As the laughter subsided, the two stared at each other in amusement. Pulled by an invisible force, their legs moved on their own accord and stopped only when their respective owners met halfway. A comfortable, tender silence enveloped them, one that gently wiped away all awkwardness and the need for frivolous words. Eyes locked on each other, they just stood there, in the middle of Kyle’s room – no thoughts in mind, no care for the outside world.

For the first time in his life, Kyle was convinced that talking would just ruin whatever they were experiencing right now. His heart was beating fast. Words clawed at his throat, questions about what they were supposed to do now making his head ache - but at the same time, he just wanted to be like Kenny for once and enjoy the silence. 

Surprisingly, it was Kenny who broke it.

“You want to catch a movie later?” 

“Yes, sure. Unless you are proposing one of those cheesy romances that are an insult to cinematic art. In that case, I’ll pass.”

“I was actually thinking about that zombie movie everybody’s talking about.”

“Oh, yeah. That’d be cool. I heard they even censored it in some states.”

“So… see you at seven? I get off at six.”

“Yeah, OK… err… just you and me, right?”

“Yeah? Unless you don’t want to…?”

“No, no, no. I want to. Just you and me then. Perfect.”

“And the rest of the movie theater.”

“Don’t be a smartass, Kenny. See you at seven.”

Smiling, Kenny stepped towards the door, hesitated and turned to Kyle again. The redhead rolled his eyes.

“You can kiss me, you know.”

“Why don’t you just say you’re horny for me?”

“Jesus. Don’t make me regret this.”

Kenny laughed, walked back to Kyle and let the other pull him down for another deep kiss. “Seven?”

“Yeah, see you at seven. Now go.”

With that said, Kenny quickly kissed him again and walked out. Kyle remained standing perfectly still in the middle of the room, listening closely to the other’s footsteps as he descended downstairs. He heard Sheila’s booming voice bidding him goodbye, and Kenny’s quiet, barely audible answer. The moment the door closed, Kyle ran to the window to watch Kenny walk down the driveway until he finally disappeared around the corner. 

As soon as Kenny was out of sight, an aching pang unfolded in his chest. It was embarrassing how much he missed him already. He was even starting to regret being so angry with Stan when he used to whine about his break-ups for days. Kyle had always been sure that he would never be the lovestruck idiot, that he was stronger than this. But here he was, staring at the million things he had scattered around his room, feeling like he had no purpose now that Kenny - his friend and now who-knew-what - was gone. Ridiculous, that's what it was. Ike was right. Kyle was a joke. 

He needed to do something with his hands. There was no way he was going to get through the day without rushing to City Wok for a quick visit otherwise. He needed a distraction - and _soon_. But what could he do? Go to Stan? Aimlessly walk around? Help his mom out with whatever she was doing downstairs? No. They were all out of the question. Talking with Stan meant spilling the beans about Kenny. Walking meant more time to think about Kenny. Helping his mom out meant regretting not going to City Wok to see Kenny. 

Something else. Something that would keep his mind off things. 

The library? Yeah. He still had a case to solve, didn’t he? Oh, but who cared about werewolves and Cartman anymore! No, wait. That was a good idea! Cartman had always managed to make him forget about the goodness in this world. Just thinking about him, Kyle’s anger and determination skyrocketed - so strong that his longing for Kenny was momentarily obfuscated. 

To the library then. 

Kyle grabbed his stuff, quickly kissed his mother goodbye and left. 

The library had not changed much from the last time he’d been there (with Kenny). Deserted save for a couple of pensioners who had nothing better to do, the library basked in the morning sunshine slipping through the wide, grimy windows. In Kyle’s eyes, it was prettier than usual. Even the stained carpet and the rows of dusty bookshelves had their charm that day. Even the librarian, in her vibrant pink attire, was lovely. He even waved when she snapped to attention the moment he set foot in the room.

Kyle glanced over to the PCs, unsure of the next step to take, before eventually deciding to take a lot at the old newspapers first. All articles were neatly stored in polyester film folders, organized chronologically and divided into binders. He started with the newest articles, searching for something that caught his eye - but he soon realized that there was nothing he hadn't read before. Flipping through the pages, he found two articles familiar from the last time he visited, about weird stuff happening in South Park’s forest. They both dated back twenty years. 

According to some witnesses, strange creatures had crawled out of the forest. Although their exact descriptions differed, they both agreed on the spider-like legs, reaching out from the undergrowth’s darkness like a shadow when the sun declined to the West. No harm befell the witnesses. To Kyle’s ears, their statements felt like something directly out of a cringey Victorian novel. In other words, it was complete bullshit, a mass hallucination of sorts. Casting the article aside with a disgusted frown, Kyle flipped back to the first page. Just as he was ready to place everything back on its rightful shelf, his eyes fell upon an article on the bottom of the page and his hand froze mid-air.

_Marvin Marsh cleared over McCormick’s death._

Marvin Marsh? As in, Stan’s grandpa?! Setting the binder back down, Kyle read through the article, following every word attentively with his index finger. 

_Since the discovery of Sandra McCormick’s body in Stark’s Pond three weeks ago, the McCormick family has suddenly found themselves in the spotlight. According to the coroner’s report, Sandra (15) has been killed by a clear shot to the head with a Kel-Tec P-32, 6.6 Ounce .32. One week ago, her father, Alfred McCormick (50), was fatally wounded in his apartment […] The cause of his death was an intraoral gunshot with a rifle, which potentially belonged to him. The prime suspect, Stuart McCormick (17), who has won South Park’s Top Shot competition last year, was acquitted of charges on Tuesday. The culprit has yet to be brought to justice, but new findings have arraigned Marvin Marsh (59), ex officer in the Air Force Army, for the possible double homicide […] _

Kyle let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. The gun Sandra had been killed with was the same type Butters had bought from Jimbo. Of course, the article didn’t mention anything about the type of bullets used, but Kyle would bet his ushanka that the murder weapon was loaded with silver ones. Once again, all roads were leading back to the McCormicks - although Kyle couldn’t really see a link between the two murders that happened twenty years before and Butters’ hunting attempt. And how did Stan’s grandpa fit in all of this?!

Sighing deeply, Kyle continued to read. 

_[…] homicide due to his questionable relationship with Cecilia McCormick (46), Alfred’s wife. Cecilia had denied all charges that accused her of […]. Yesterday evening, Marvin Marsh’s alibi was confirmed. At the moment of Alfred’s death, Marvin was caught on camera with friends in Denver. […] Moreover, the police discovered a note in Alfred’s jacket. Its contents (“I was unable to protect her”) and the coroner’s report have convinced the Chief Inspector that it was suicide. _

In a sudden frenzy, Kyle grabbed the binder and ran towards the librarian typing away on her PC at her desk by the front doors. She let out a screech of alarm when the incredibly thick binder landed right in front of her nose with a loud _thud_. As she lifted her gaze to Kyle’s red face, her angry expressions soon turned into a bashful one. 

“I need copies of this page.” Panting, Kyle rapidly tapped on the plastic folder. The librarian’s gaze flickered back and forth between Kyle’s finger and his disheveled hair, gaping like a fish out of the water. 

“It’s two dollars per copy,” she finally managed to say. Her squeaky voice took Kyle completely by surprise. 

“Two dollars?!”

“That’s the library policy.” With that said, she pointed at the price list hanging on the wall behind her. 

Kyle stared at the shiny placard. “But I need _five_ copies of this.”

“Then it’s ten dollars.” 

“This is madness. I won’t pay ten dollars for a twenty-year old newspaper!”

“Why do you want five copies then? Is one not enough?” The librarian pulled the binder towards her, an appreciative sigh escaping her at the sight of the colored photograph Kyle had repeatedly pointed at mere seconds before. “He is incredibly handsome indeed.”

Kyle’s mouth snapped shut. A blush crawling up his neck, Kyle tried to get the binder back. “It’s not that.” He coughed in embarrassment. “I am interested in the article.”

“Of course.”

Kyle groaned. “Fine. One copy is enough.”

“A photo enlargement costs five dollars.”

“I am not interested in that photo!” 

The librarian smiled. Her disbelief was obvious in the way she picked the binder up and carefully took the page out. She stood up; her perfectly pressed Chanel suit remaining unwrinkled as she moved. 

“The photo enlargement is on me,” she said, bending forwards and winking at Kyle meaningfully. As she gave Kyle a good look-over, guilt flashed across her face briefly. 

“You’re a weird woman.” 

“I must have freaked you out last time, didn’t I?” she said, brushing off Kyle’s comment. “I must say, I was ready to call the police when you came in with your friend that day. I am so sorry. Now that I know who killed dear Liane and her delightful son, I feel so guilty for judging you two so harshly.”

“Liane?” Kyle parroted, blinking at the librarian in shock.

“I was Mrs. Cartman’s neighbor and close friend,” the librarian explained as she rearranged the pages. 

“You were the one who discovered the bodies?” The sudden ringing in his ears made it hard for Kyle to listen to the sound of his own voice. He tried to calm himself down by taking a deep breath, but all he managed to do was smother a hiccup. 

“Oh, no.” She waved her hand, the golden bracelet clicking loudly against the wooden desk. “We used to have coffee together every morning before I went to work, you know? She felt incredibly lonely when her little man was not home. When she suddenly stopped dropping by, I grew extremely worried. I thought she and dear Eric had fallen ill, and that was why she wasn’t answering my calls.” She paused for a moment to wipe the tears from her eyes with a handkerchief, mindful not to smudge her make-up. “But then I caught your friend sneaking in and out of Liane’s house around the same time for three days straight, and my suspicions just grew.” Slack-jawed, Kyle hung onto every word. Suddenly lightheaded, he grabbed the desk for support. The librarian continued. “So, assailed by doubts, I decided to call the police that fateful night. They had to break down the door and… oh, the stench! I’ll remember it till the day I die! It was a-w-f-u-l.” Kyle swallowed at the lump in his throat but it just stuck there, making it harder to breathe. “And then, I caught a glimpse of you and that strange boy in that tattered orange parka sneaking out of Liane’s house one day and-! Are you feeling alright? Should I get you a glass of water?”

“Why didn’t you call the police when you saw us?” Kyle cut her off. She looked at him in wonder.

“I’ve seen _you_ hanging out with Eric plenty of times before, darling. I soon realized it was just some harmless teenager bravado.”

“Still, you almost called them when we came here that one time.”

“Your friend has a very unsettling glare.” The librarian’s gaze dropped to the picture at the bottom of the article. Unwillingly, Kyle followed her line of vision, lingering on Stuart McCormick’s azure eyes a moment longer than strictly necessary. “I seriously believed him to be Liane and Eric’s murderer - but at the same time, I couldn’t fathom how such a young and fragile-looking boy could be capable of such monstrosities.” 

“He’s innocent,” Kyle rushed to say, choking on his own voice. 

“Oh, I know now. I’ve seen the news.” 

With that said, she turned her back to him and walked to the copy machine. For a couple of minutes, the sound of the copier echoed in the vast room. One of the pensioners coughed in resentment, but the librarian didn’t deem him worthy of a glance. Fast and meticulous, she put the old newspaper page back into its place in the binder and handed over the copy alongside the enlarged picture. 

“It’s two dollars.”

Kyle gave her five. He didn’t wait for the change and ran out of the library, heading straight to Stan’s house.

***

“You want to do what now?!”

“I need to see your grandpa.”

Groaning, Stan massaged his temples and slumped down on his desk. Annoyed, Kyle nudged him with his foot. 

“Are you going to stop wallowing in self-pity any time soon?”

“You can go to that stinky elderly home on your own, Kyle. They let _anyone_ in.”

“But you’re his grandson!”

“He won’t even notice the difference!”

“Seriously, Stan?”

“I don’t wanna goooo.”

“Wasn’t I clear?!”

“Yes, Kyle,” Stan said, voice flat, lifting his gaze to Kyle’s arched eyebrows. “Twenty years ago, Kenny’s aunt or whatever was murdered with the same gun Butters had bought from Jimbo in order to kill someone Kevin is oh-so obviously trying to protect.”

“My words exactly. So, what’s your problem?”

“It’s just a coincidence!”

“It could be, but - !” Kyle raised an index finger in the air condescendingly. “ - it is not, because I say so.”

“I’m so convinced right now.”

“Cut the crap. We need to talk to your grandpa.”

“Since when there is a ‘we’?”

“Since I trusted you with this fucked up story. Now help me out, or else.” 

Stan’s groans grew louder. “I still can’t see how my grandpa can help you.”

“Us.” Kyle corrected him and stared at his friend hard, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Sighing, Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and finally got to his feet. 

“Fine. Let’s go.”

“Good boy.”

Kyle ignored the murderous look on Stan’s face and led the way. 

The elderly home was not as far as Stan declared it to be. It took them less than twenty minutes by bus and, just as Stan predicted, the nurses happily let them in without even asking who they came to visit. The immaculate gem of a place - with its marble floors, white doors and golden doorknobs - reeked of disinfectant, plastic and unmentionable body fluids. Stan didn’t seem particularly bothered by the smell and even cordially greeted some of the nurses by name, flashing a timid smile that was completely at odds with his previous whining. 

Kyle, on the other hand, felt his strength wavering. There was something about the place that overwhelmed him with a wave of nostalgia for brighter days and imminent catastrophe. It was not bad enough to make him turn on his heels and run back home, but it made his stomach churn uneasily nonetheless. He hadn’t set foot in such facilities since his grandma died - and that had been so long ago that Kyle couldn’t for the life of him remember what thoughts had flashed through his mind back then. Probably the same, just a tad a bit sadder, as they had been visiting a family member with a terminal condition. Or not. They hadn’t been consumed by mad grief, that’s for sure.

They found Stan’s grandpa amidst ten other paralytic patients in the TV room. The TV set was switched off, but they all stared at the black screen as if there really was a very interesting football game on. Stan zigzagged through the wheelchairs and abandoned walking sticks to get to his grandpa. 

“Hey! I was watching that!” Marvin exclaimed the moment Stan grabbed the push handles and pulled him away from the ominous circle of elderly people. 

“Hi, grandpa,” Stan said instead, letting out a resigned sigh as Marvin weakly tried to hit him on the head with his walking stick. 

“Oh, it’s you, Billy!” Marvin placed the walking stick in his lap. He didn’t look particularly happy, but he did try to grab Stan’s hand in greeting anyway. 

“It’s Stan.” Sighing deeply and loudly again, Stan pushed his grandpa in Kyle’s direction. “Kyle and I decided to pay you a quick visit. Aren’t you happy, grandpa? You remember Kyle, right?”

Frowning at his grandson, Marvin’s gaze wandered over to Kyle, who waved. Eyes going wide, he grabbed the rear wheels with incredible strength for a man of his age and forced Stan to curb, sending him flailing backwards when the younger boy tried to push the wheelchair forwards forcefully. 

“I am not going to die, you fucking Banshee!” Marvin bellowed, grabbing his walking stick and pointing it at Kyle as if it were a rifle. “Bring it on! I’m not afraid of you!”

“Grandpa!” Stan circled the wheelchair and wrestled the walking stick from the older man’s wrinkly hands. “What the fuck are you doing?! It’s Kyle. My friend Kyle, remember? And what the fuck do you need a walking stick for?!”

“To poke at the nurses,” Marvin answered, suddenly calm. He squinted at Kyle before shrugging. “I’m very happy to see you, Billy, but the Denver Broncos are playing right now, and I placed a bet on them. No time for pointless chit-chat. Roll me back to the TV room.”

Kyle and Stan shared a disbelieving look. Kyle arched an eyebrow; Stan shook his head. Kyle pointed at Marvin when the older man wasn’t looking; Stan mouthed a ‘you do it’, eyes wide. Kyle glared; Stan rolled his eyes. Kyle glared harder; Stan sighed. Kyle smiled; Stan stretched his arm. The newspaper article changed hands. 

“Hey, grandpa,” Stan started, glancing over his shoulder at Kyle briefly. “Do you remember a… hmm…” Kyle tapped his foot impatiently. “Err… do you…”

“Stop being such a fag, Billy, and spit it out.” As Marvin turned around in his chair, his eyes fell on the piece of paper Stan was holding. Without asking for permission, the old man tore it from Stan’s grasp and drew it close to his nose. “Oh.” Understanding flashed across the old man’s face, his eyes suddenly going out of focus. “Cecilia. She was such - ! She was such...!” Kyle and Stan leaned forwards. “- a fucking hag, that’s what she was. She didn’t even give me a blowjob.”

“Grandpa!” Stan exclaimed, outraged. 

“Damn, you kids have no sense of humor,” Marvin said and gave the article back to Stan. “That was such a long time ago. Why bring it up now…”

“Is it true you had a relationship with her?” Stan asked. Marvin waved his hand in a clearly negative answer.

“No, but we were friends,” he said, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I liked her. We went to school together, you see, but then she met that good-for-nothing Alfred McCormick and the whole thing got screwed up.” 

“Are you talking about the murders?” Kyle piped up. A bark of laughter escaped Marvin’s throat, soon followed by a coughing fit. 

“No. That happened way later.” He patted the blanket that covered his legs and made himself more comfortable in his seat. “We kept seeing each other, even after we both married and had children. She could chug beers like nobody else, and your grandma didn’t like it a bit, you see. She has always been such a spoilsport. But Cecilia!” And here, Marvin’s eyes lit up. “She was amazing! She could do things no one else could do. I bet her daughter took after her. She is really something.”

“She was,” Kyle corrected him. “She’s dead.”

“Oh.” Marvin’s expression closed off, and Stan threw Kyle a reproachful glare. “Sandra. Poor Sandra. People said she was my illegitimate daughter, but that’s not true. She looks too much like her father.” Slowly, Marvin lifted a hand in the air. “She is very strong.”

“Who? Cecilia?” Stan asked. 

“No, Sandra.” The far-away look on Marvin’s face suddenly grew sad. “She is strong. She can pull a tree down with one hand! And she has the brightest smile. She is so full of life and loves nighttime the most. Cecilia told me how difficult it is to handle her during a full moon - she just can’t stay home. Oh, but Cecilia was able to keep up with her.” He fell silent, deep in thought. “And Alfred could do things no one else could too, now that I think about it.” 

“Such as?” Stan asked, curious. Marvin’s gaze flickered towards him.

“Is the game over yet? Did the Broncos win?”

Stan shared a meaningful look with Kyle. The redhead sighed, grabbed a plastic chair and dragged it closer to Marvin. “Can you tell us a little bit more about Alfred McCormick?” 

“The McCormicks are poor as hell.” Marvin gave Kyle a good look-over. “Who are you?”

“I’m Kyle, Stan’s friend.”

“Oh, yeah, the death bringer.”

“I’m no death bringer!” Kyle snapped, irritated. Stan gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“What were you saying about the McCormicks?” Stan asked, forcing his grandpa’s attention back on him. 

“They are poor, always have been,” Marvin said with a grimace. “But Cecilia was drawn to Alfred like a magnet. I will never understand why she decided to move into that small hut in the middle of those creepy woods when she had everything she could ask for! But she was meant to be there, I guess, like Alfred was. Just like any self-respecting McCormick out there. He could peer into the immediate future, you see, and still he didn’t want to use that to his advantage. What an idiot. He could have easily become a millionaire but decided to stay a good-for-nothing hobo.” 

Kyle rolled his eyes upwards. “No one can predict the future. It is scientifically impossible.”

“Oh, but nothing in those woods follows the laws of human nature,” Marvin said. “The McCormicks belong to that world, like trout in a lake. He could predict some stuff, not everything, I give you that. Moreover, he could see who was lying and who was telling the truth. He used that to his advantage when we played poker.” 

“Now, unless he had some knowledge in basic psychology-!” 

“Kyle, will you cut it out?” Stan hissed through gritted teeth. Kyle shut up. It didn’t seem like Stan’s grandpa had even heard Kyle’s complaint. 

“Alfred.” The name escaped Marvin’s lips in a whisper. “He was devastated.”

“Why?”

A pause followed Kyle’s question. 

“When Sandra died, Alfred and Cecilia were devastated. Alfred kept blaming himself for not getting to her in time, but he hated his son the most because he was the one in charge of his sister. Alfred couldn’t bear her loss and ended up killing himself. What a coward. If people had known him as well as I did, they would have never, ever accused me of being a murderer, just because his wife and I were close. Ha! Bullshit. I would have never hurt Cecilia.”

“What about Stuart McCormick?” Kyle asked, leaning closer. “Where was he when all of this happened? Could he predict the future too? How did he take his sister’s death?”

“I don’t know what he could do. I can’t remember,” Marvin cut him off abruptly.

“If they had such extraordinary powers, why is there no mention of them in the newspapers?” Kyle prodded. “Why did no one talk about it? It’s not an everyday occurrence to see a teenager pull a tree down with one hand, is it? What’s so special about this family?! Why are you the only one who thinks Alfred McCormick could see into the future and stuff?!”

“Kyle!” Stan reproached him. 

“Oh, you unbeliever,” Marvin said with a frown. “I was a close friend of them and caught them in the act because they weren’t careful, that’s all. These woods and its inhabitants are old and dangerous. You shouldn’t bring catastrophe upon yourself just because you can’t hold your tongue. This shitty town is my home and you take care of your home, don’t you? We mortals shouldn’t dig our own graves.” 

With that said, Marvin fell silent again. No matter how much Stan tried to get his grandpa’s attention back on the matter at hand, Marvin stubbornly kept staring at a point far away from him. Kyle groaned in annoyance, stood up from his chair and started pacing around the room. 

“I’m going to take you back to the rest of your friends, alright, grandpa?” Stan asked, forcing a tired smile on his lips. 

“Did the Broncos win? Hey, nurse Stephanie! Come give this old man a kiss! I’m rich. The Broncos won!”

***

“So?” Stan asked with a frown, poking at his half-eaten cheeseburger. “What do you think?” He reached for Kyle’s fries and the redhead pushed them towards him. 

“Your grandpa is senile.”

“I told you that talking with him would amount to nothing.” Stan shoved a handful of fries in his mouth, earning a disapproving glare from his friend.

Frowning, Kyle decided to change subject. “Be as it may, I won’t believe the McCormicks have anything to do with Cartman and Butters’ murders until I have actual proof.”

“Well, we do have proof Kevin _McCormick_ killed Butters.” 

“Because he was protecting someone.” Kyle pushed the rest of his meal to the side and slammed Stuart McCormick’s enlarged picture on the table. 

“Why did you get that enlarged?”

“That’s not important. Look at those eyes.” Stan didn’t deem the picture worthy of attention and picked up his chocolate milkshake instead. “Stan, focus. This is serious!” “I know what you’re going to say next.” With an eyeroll, Stan bit down on his straw. “And I’m telling you, Kenny’s dad was not the one who murdered Cartman.”

“I’ve seen those eyes before.” Kyle tapped his finger on Stuart’s nose. “The werewolf had those very same eyes!”

This time, Stan did glance at the picture with wonder. His curiosity soon vanished, replaced by amusement. “Many people have blue eyes.”

“Azure.”

“Same difference.”

“Not this time.”

“Kenny’s got blue eyes. Why are you not even considering him?”

“_Azure_, and Kenny’s innocent.”

Surprised by Kyle’s snappish tone, Stan furrowed his eyebrows and slowly put the milkshake back down. Avoiding his friend’s curious stare, Kyle shoved the picture back in his pocket. 

“Don’t tell me you want Kenny to be the werewolf,” Kyle said, unable to keep the anger at bay. He slammed both elbows on the dirty, plastic table and covered his red cheek with both hands. He was burning all over. Stan was bound to notice his discomfiture and Kyle was not ready to face the consequences anytime soon.

Much to Kyle’s dismay, Stan’s eyebrow arched high in a silent question. “Of course not. We would have noticed, if he was one, right? Right?!” 

“True that,” Kyle mumbled, turning his head even further to avoid Stan’s perplexed expression.

“I’m sure he did threaten to kill Cartman once,” Stan reflected after a small pause. “Like many of our classmates, he had very good motives too.”

“Kenny is different. He’s - ! He’s not like that. _I_ should know! He’s-! Fuck.” 

Stan blinked as Kyle abruptly reached for Stan’s milkshake and finished it to the last drop, slurping loudly. A dumbfounded expression crossed Stan’s features; his mouth forming into silent _wow_. Kyle proceeded to eat the rest of the fries. 

“I’m still hungry,” Kyle said, mouth full. “Are you hungry? We should order more fries. Okay, it’s on me. I’ll go get them.”

“Woah, woah, woah. What is going on?” Stan asked, lifting his arms in the air. 

“Nothing,” Kyle rushed to say. “Absolutely nothing.” He forced a laugh. “Fries. Just fries for you?”

Stan’s eyes became wide as saucers. “What the fuck is wrong with you? We were just talking about Kenny and you… you…”

Kyle blushed tenfold. “I’m sorry about the milkshake. I’ll get you another one, okay? Great. Let me just-!”

“Kyle, I know that face,” Stan interrupted him, raw panic clear in his voice. Kyle winced. “And tell me it’s not what I think it is.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just asking you if you want more fries, Stan. Why are you looking at me like that? Stop it. Right now. I’m serious.”

Stan’s mouth opened and closed repeatedly. Kyle could practically see the wheels turning wildly in his friend’s head. Suddenly, loud enough for the whole McDonalds to fall silent and stare at them, Stan shrieked: _“Kenny?!”_

“Sshh!” Kyle hissed, slamming a hand over Stan’s mouth. “Calm the fuck down!”

Stan mumbled something behind Kyle’s palm that sounded very much like a _‘I am calm!’_ , soiling his hand with saliva in the process. Releasing him, Kyle groaned loudly and hid his face into his folded arms. 

“You… and Kenny? Like, our childhood friend Kenny? That Kenny?! With Kenny?!” Stan hissed, peeking sideways to make sure the rest of the patrons had turned back to their burgers. “Why Kenny?!”

“I don’t know. It just happened,” Kyle muttered without looking up. “It was just one kiss, don’t stress so much.”

“One kiss?” Stan swallowed. “Like, on the cheek?”

“Maybe two… or three, or four… I lost count,” Kyle continued, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Two, three, four… oh, God. On the cheek?!”

Kyle lifted his head and stared at Stan in disbelief. 

Stan shook his head. “Ok, nevermind that. Since when?”

“Since… yesterday?”

“_What?_!” His shriek earned the patrons’ and the servers’ attention again. Kyle wanted the ground to swallow him whole. 

“Jesus Christ, is that even important?!”

“Since when do you want to get into Kenny’s pants?!”

“Oh, don’t say it like that!” Kyle groaned and hid his face in his palms again. “It’s not important.”

“Du-ude! It is! Because it’s _Kenny_! We’re like… brothers…? Isn’t this incest? What the - ! Ouch! Ouch! Fuck, Kyle, what did you kick me for?!”

“Stan, I’m already freaking out as it is.” At those words, Stan shut up so hard his teeth clacked. “I know it’s Kenny. I don’t know why it’s Kenny. I just… oh, fuck, if you only knew how much I am missing him right now, you-! Don’t you dare look at me with pity, Stan! I’m going to kill you. I kissed him first, and I’ve been wanting to for such a fucking long time. And I have no idea why I wanted to for such a fucking long time! And yes. Yes. _I_ initiated the kiss! It’s not that weird, Stan. Stop looking at me like that, Stan! I don’t know why! He’s amazing, that's what he is. That’s all. He… he makes me feel like… like… oh, I’m so gonna rip that grin off your face, Stan!”

“Oh, no, no, no. Who’s grinning? Not me. I’m very confused right now, but… I swear, I am not laughing at you,” Stan said, his grin growing wider. “Do go on.” Kyle slammed his face on the table. “I never thought I’d see the day, though,” Stan continued, earning another groan from Kyle’s end. “And with Kenny no less. I thought he liked chicks.” Kyle didn’t answer. “Actually, I thought you liked girls too, considering the fiasco that was Rebecca and all, but… wow! You and Kenny, huh?”

“Stan, it’s not serious.”

“Dude, you wanted to bite my head off because I said that his eyes were blue and not _azure_,” Stan said, emphasizing the last adjective with a roll of his eyes. “And then you were ready to declaim a poem on how he makes you feel.”

“I was so not going to do that.” A moment of hesitation. “Was I?” 

Stan gave him a deadpan look. “Of course not. And you kissed so much you lost count.”

“Why am I having this conversation with you?” Kyle growled and hit his forehead against the table again. 

“I was wondering the same thing.”

Kyle stayed motionless. Maybe if he pretended to be dead, Stan would leave and let his feelings overwhelm him until he died for real. There was something between Kenny and him that neither of them could explain, so sudden and yet so natural it was a wonder they didn’t end up kissing sooner. It happened in the midst of chaos – Cartman and Butters’ deaths had not only trashed Kyle’s life, but Kevin’s too and, consequently, Kenny’s. And now Kyle discovered a murder that happened twenty years ago that made things even more complicated. There was no worse possible time for this. He should have kept his mouth shut, now that he needed Stan the most. Stan didn’t understand. He would hate him and with good reasons too… 

“Are you done with your daily dose of self-pity?” Stan’s voice pulled Kyle back to reality. 

The redhead pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at his friend, uncomprehending. “I was not doing anything of the sort.”

“Right.” Stan sighed and pitched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, dude, I might not understand what exactly is going on between you two or how you ever started… err… making out and stuff, but seriously, I don’t really care. I mean, I care because you’re my friends and I want you both to be happy, but at the same time I don’t care about what you two do in private. You get what I mean? Err… Nevermind. Shit like this happens all the time, and this doesn’t change anything between us, right? We’re still together in this, right?”

“Yeah…” Kyle whispered, heartened by Stan’s words. His friend reached for his hand and gave it a light squeeze.

“You can talk with me about anything.” Kyle could see Stan struggling with declaring something so open to any kind of interpretation (and thanks God, Kenny wasn’t there!). His appreciation for such a good friend warmed his heart. For a moment, he wondered if they’ve managed to definitely break the deadlock that had almost ruined their long friendship in the past couple of years. Stan’s gentle smile told him they had. “And if he ever hurts you,” Stan continued, grin widening, “I will cheer you on while you beat his ass to a pulp. Unless he’s indeed a werewolf. In that case, you’re completely on your own.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “He’s not a werewolf.” A smile. “But thank you.”

“Yeah.”

Kyle hesitated. “You know… I think we’ve got our first date tonight.”

“You _think_?” Stan asked with a snort. “You’re not sure?” 

“We’re going to the movies. Just the two of us.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to watch the new zombie movie! Dad forced Shelly and I to see it because he makes a cameo appearance at the end.”

“What?! Your dad is in the movie?”

“Not in person. They used a picture from that Rodeo Competition from two years ago. You can vaguely see him chugging beer somewhere in the background. It’s really blurry and it lasts like, five seconds, but he made a fuss when his name was not listed in the credits.” 

Kyle snorted. “How’s the movie?”

“Gory.” Stan picked up his forgotten half-eaten cheeseburger but dropped it back down with a disgusted grimace. “I just remembered one of the scenes. I won’t be able to eat at all today. Thank you, Kyle.”

Kyle chuckled. “You’re welcome.”

“Are you nervous, by the way?”

“Hmmm…. A little bit.”

“Don’t be. It’s Kenny. He will close his eyes every time someone dies a gruesome death. It will give you many opportunities to hold his hand or even slide your arm around his shoulder.”

At that, a bark of laughter escaped Kyle’s throat, soon infecting Stan as well. The patrons turned to stare at them again, but this time, neither of them gave a damn for being at the center of the attention yet again. 

***

Kyle was at the movies at exactly 7 p.m. There was always a queue forming, so he quickly joined the rest of zombie enthusiasts and made his way to the ticket booth. Kenny ran to catch up with him exactly ten minutes later, panting and smelling vaguely of spring rolls. Kyle was still waiting in line.

“You’re late,” Kyle said, more out of habit than real annoyance. Kenny rested a hand on one knee and raised the other in a _‘give me a minute’_ gesture. “Did you run all the way up here?” Kyle asked, feeling warm at the sight. 

“Of course not. I was walking… very normally.” Still trying to catch his breath, Kenny reached down and intertwined their fingers together. “Fuck, the movie theater is going to be packed,” Kenny commented after a small pause, craning his neck to see how many people were still in front of them. Kyle’s heart sped up when Kenny pressed their shoulders together absentmindedly, too stunned to come up with a coherent comeback. His gaze dropped down on their joined hands and lingered there. “Hey, Ky, you think there are going to be enough tickets? Ky? Ky, are you liste - !” Eyes going wide, Kenny followed Kyle’s line of vision. “Oh, shit-! I did that without thinking.” Kenny quickly pulled away, but Kyle grabbed his hand back and forcefully kept it there. 

“It’s okay.”

Kenny furrowed his eyebrows. “You don’t mind that people see? I think I saw your father on my way here.”

“No, it’s okay.” Kyle smiled, and the corners of Kenny’s eyes softened. Those azure eyes Kyle had missed so much the whole day. 

“So you won’t mind if I kiss you as well? I’ve been dying to since I left you this morning.”

“That’s fucking cheesy, Kenny,” Kyle said with a snort. The blonde laughed. 

“I’m serious though.”

“Okay.”

“Okay to what?” Kenny asked with a wide grin, licking his bottom lip. 

“Stop teasing.” Kyle frowned, eyes following Kenny’s tongue attentively. 

“Some habits are hard to kill.”

“Loverboys, don’t make _me_ die waiting,” a guttural voice interrupted them. Kyle and Kenny jumped, turning to the obese man at the ticket booth with identical expressions of bashfulness. “Two tickets?”

“Two tickets,” Kyle repeated, gaze cast down. He quickly paid for them and dragged Kenny inside. Laughing, Kenny followed him meekly - but at the first opportunity, he pulled Kyle close and locked their lips together.

Damn… Kyle had missed him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, A BIG THANK YOU to @LWTIS for being such an awesome beta!  
And thank YOU, my wonderful readers, for all the kudos, the comments, and for loving this story so much. <3<3<3<3


	11. Brothers in arms

Before Kyle’s life - and his perception of it - was abruptly turned upside down, walking through the woods early in the morning had been quite a pleasant experience. As the sunlight filtered through the greenery, the birds chirped in the trees, wishing _good morning_ to every creature in their fancy, sometimes overly noisy way. Dew flickered on the flowers, creating lively rainbows that brought a special burst of energy to the surrounding environment. Past Kyle would have enjoyed every minute of it. Now, he couldn’t help but eye the dense undergrowth warily; just in case something quite _unnatural_ peeped from under the bushes, ready to pounce and obliterate that sense of tranquility once and for all. 

The fact he had promised Kenny he wouldn’t venture into the woods all by himself anymore didn’t make him feel any better about his current predicament. Not that Kyle had gone back on his word. He wasn’t alone, after all. Ike was with him. 

“I don’t understand why you and Karen didn’t take the school bus today,” Kyle said for the tenth time since they left their house. He glanced at their surroundings again, for good measure.

Ike sighed. “Man, I told you already. We are not going to play hooky.” 

“Then why didn’t you take the school bus?”

“We are working on a project together, _mom_.” Ike grinned as Kyle shot him a murderous look. “Our lazy teachers cancelled first and second periods so we could scooch around the library before we went to school. Now that Christmas is around the corner, they care even less.”

“Meager excuses. You’re not even in the same class.”

Ike clicked his tongue. “Did you, or did you not attend South Park High School? It’s a school tradition to cancel classes around Christmas time. You _know_ that.” 

Kyle scoffed. “Be as it may, a project together sounds far-fetched.”

“Fine, I just want to help her out with _her_ project.”

Kyle thought it over. “Again… far-fetched.”

Ike rolled his eyes. “Why are you coming with me anyway?” When Kyle kept his mouth shut, Ike’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Ohhh. You just can’t get enough, can you?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kyle blushed. Ike waggled his eyebrows. 

“How many times did you fap last night thinking about him?” 

“I swear I’m going to punch your teeth in.” 

“Aww, defending his honor, I see.” 

Kyle let out a frustrated groan. “I just want to keep a close eye on you. You shouldn’t be walking in the woods alone!” 

Ike got a good laugh out of that, and Kyle stomped his feet, very much aware that his exaggerated reaction would encourage his brother further. As expected, Ike’s grin only grew bigger. 

“Oh, damn. I knew I was forgetting something!” Ike said, slipping on a fake mask of fear. “Have you seen my red riding hood anywhere, Mr. Hunter? Will the big bad wolf eat me now?” Kyle dropped his gaze to the ground, anger flushing his cheeks with red. 

“Ike, this is not funny.” 

“Oh, it is.” 

“Fine!” Kyle whirled around and poked Ike’s torso furiously. “If you’re ever attacked by wolf or a fucking bear, I’ll be here laughing my ass off!” 

“I count on it.” Ike rolled his eyes. “Kyle, there are no wolves or bears here. Jimbo and Co. killed them all off.” 

“How do _you_ know?” 

“You’re just a coward.” Suddenly, turned left and walked down a less traveled path, right through the woods. “Pick up the pace, or the invisible bugs will eat your brains!” 

Groaning in frustration, Kyle quickly followed him. If only he could tell Ike there were much worse animals in the woods than wolves or bears…he couldn’t even rule out the existence of brain-sucking invisible bugs either. Swallowing, Kyle picked up the pace to catch up with his brother. 

The McCormicks’ house came into sight not even five minutes later - much to Kyle’s surprise. He was about to ask Ike how he knew about the shortcut when visions of Kevin being taken by the police rushed through his mind and froze him on the spot. For a moment, Kyle was reliving that fateful night. He could even feel Kenny’s fingers slip through his grasp as the blonde ran to his sister’s side. Tears prickled at his eyes and Kyle wiped them away angrily with the back of his hand. 

“Are you going to just stand there?” Ike asked, glancing over his shoulder as he made his way to the front door. “What if a bear bites your ass?” 

“Shut your mouth,” Kyle snapped half-heartedly. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. Kevin’s sad face haunted him. His resigned smile was like a stab to the heart. The memory of his eyes, however, was the coup de grace. Knees buckling under his weight, Kyle swallowed a lump in his throat. 

“Kyle?” 

At the naked worry in Ike’s voice, Kyle lifted his gaze from the ground. As he opened his mouth to reassure him, a shimmering light suddenly caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes, but it was impossible to discern anything from such a distance. Enthralled, he started walking towards the edge of the woods, where he thought the light came from. A strong wind moved through the canopy of trees. For the slightest of seconds, Kyle thought he saw Kevin’s back - head down, standing at the end of the clearing. It must have been an optical illusion, created by Kyle’s memories, for it disappeared soon after. The light flickered again and vanished every time he moved into the shade. His legs moved towards it on their own accord. 

“What are you doing, Kyle? The house is over here!” 

Kyle didn’t pay Ike any mind. His focus was solely on that bright gem, nailed deep in a tree trunk. Heart beating faster and faster, Kyle approached what he soon recognized as a small, silver bullet. Breath catching in his throat, he almost pressed his nose into the wood for a better look. There could be no mistake. That was a silver bullet indeed! Kyle scratched at its base, noting the dried blood on his nail with a sharp pang in his chest. 

“Fuck.” Kyle stared at his finger before whipping around towards the McCormicks’ house. Filled with a certainty he couldn’t comprehend, Kyle studied the clearing stretching under his feet. He was standing in the spot Butters had been when he drew his last breath. Yes. Butters had stood right in front of the McCormicks’ house. Kyle’s eyes darted towards the windows and back to the bullet again. He took a couple of steps backwards, faced the tree and lifted his right arm, as if he were holding an imaginary gun. His legs started shaking as he turned to look at the McCormicks’ house again. 

Butters couldn’t possibly have seen someone approaching him from behind. But _any_ of the McCormicks could have seen _him_ from one of their windows. Kyle could picture Kevin very clearly in his mind. He could see him pick up his baseball bat, run out of the house and hit Butters right before he pulled the trigger. Or after he pulled the trigger? A bullet was stuck in the trunk of a tree. If he closed his eyes, he could even hear Kevin panting frantically as he lifted the baseball bat over his head and-!

“Kyle!” 

And then what happened? Was the gross stuff under Kyle’s fingernails Butters’ blood? Or was it somebody else’s? Butters did pull the trigger. Kyle had proof right here! But none of the McCormicks were hurt, were they? So maybe he missed. Someone else had been with Kevin that night. Butters’ body was found deeper in the woods. Kevin and somebody else moved the body there. Kevin _and somebody else_ hid the murder weapon. Kevin was protecting this somebody else, whoever that was. Butters had fired at him - not at Kevin. And missed. A silver bullet stained with blood was stuck in the tree. Whose blood? Butters? If Kyle could only-! 

“Kyle, for the love of God, snap out of it!” 

With a sinking feeling, Kyle snapped back to reality. Ike was staring at him as if he had just lost his mind. Kyle had no time to explain himself before the McCormicks’ door slammed open, making him forget all about the bullet and Butters’ fate. 

“Karen! I am serious! You _can’t_ go!” 

Kenny’s loud, angry voice echoed through the woods. Still dizzy and distracted, Kyle watched Karen give Kenny the middle finger and let out a gasp of surprise when she almost collided smacked into Ike. Kenny lifted his gaze towards him. 

Kyle could finally breathe. 

“Bad moment?” Ike asked sheepishly. Kenny’s attention was back on Ike again, expression darkening. Kyle was by his brother’s side in two, quick strides. 

“You’ve got a brother, you know how it is,” Karen said with a roll of her eyes and smiled at Kyle shyly. “Hey, Kyle.” 

“Hi.” Awkwardly, Kyle tried to catch Kenny’s gaze, but the blonde was too busy staring daggers at his baby sister’s back. 

“Oh, I know alright.” Ike grinned and took Karen’s hand. “But mine’s a nerd. Things could be worse on your end.” 

Kenny frowned as Karen giggled. Her azure eyes quickly shifted over to Kyle again before she turned to look at Kenny. 

“We’re going to the library. Err…have a good day at work,” she added, not bothering to mask the upset tone in her voice. 

“I sure hope you’ll be home when my shift ends.” 

Karen groaned. “You can’t take Kevin’s place, Kenny! Stop bossing me around. Jesus!” 

With that said, she dragged Ike away to the path Kyle had walked mere minutes before. When the two disappeared in the thick vegetation, Kenny let out a disappointed sigh. 

“And she used to call me her guardian angel.” He looked at Kyle, flashing a sad smile before turning pensive again. 

Licking his lips, Kyle moved closer to him. “At least she hasn’t been calling you a nerdy loser since she learned how to speak.” 

Kenny snorted. As their eyes met, his expression softened. Contentment warmed every inch of Kyle’s soul as he saw Kenny’s anger slowly dissipating. 

“I was ready to drop by your house,” Kenny said after a brief moment spent taking in each other’s presence. 

Kyle shrugged. “Ike needed an escort.” 

“Did he now? So you’re not here for me at all?” 

Kyle laughed at Kenny’s exaggerated pout. “You’re my consolation prize.” Kenny’s jaw slacked in surprise, and Kyle winced, suddenly realizing exactly how that sounded. “God, that came out wrong.” 

For a moment, Kenny looked lost - but then a smug little smile graced his features and Kyle knew he was in for some awful teasing. He squared his shoulders, ready to face Kenny head on. 

“Are you flirting with me, Kyle Broflovski?” 

Kyle rolled his eyes. “I do not… flirt.” 

“And what was that then?” 

“Forget I said anything, alright?” 

“Why? You should do it more often. I like your… attempts at flirting!” 

Kyle shook his head in annoyance. He even let out a sigh of irritation just to get his point across, but he quickly had to shift his gaze elsewhere. His lips were tugging upwards in an obvious act of rebellion. It was maddening when his body just couldn’t stick to the plan. Damn it. 

“Aww, you’re smiling.” 

“I am not!” Kyle slammed a hand over his mouth, but it only made Kenny laugh harder. Happiness surged within him at the sound, and Kyle gave up pretending to be angry. He dared a glance at Kenny again, his stomach tying itself into a knot at the blonde’s bright expression. The bitterness from his little fight with Karen had been completely replaced by something that made Kyle’s knees go weak. 

Seriously, he couldn’t get any gayer than this. If Ike saw him now, he would have enough blackmail material until they were both grey and wrinkly. 

“Anyway,” Kyle began, trying hard to scrape back some self-control. “I thought we could spend some time together before your shift started.” 

Kenny arched an eyebrow. “If it doesn’t involve some PDA, I am not interested. I have a lot of stuff to do at home, you know.” 

“Oh, really?” Kyle snorted. “Be my guest and go do chores then.” He turned on his heels and marched towards the woods. He was already halfway through the shortcut when Kenny grabbed his arm and firmly pulled him against his chest. The bark of laughter that threatened to escape Kyle’s throat immediately transformed into a mildly irritated: “What the fuck are you doing?” 

Kenny’s fingers running down his back shut Kyle up. The slow kiss that followed made him shiver. He would never, ever get tired of hearing Kenny’s breath grow short. 

“Did you know your ass is perfect, Ky?” Kenny whispered right into his ear as they pulled apart. “I am sure you walked away on purpose just so I could stare at it. As revenge to my previous teasing.” When Kyle just traced a path with his nose along Kenny’s jawline and didn’t comment, Kenny’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Oh, my God, you _did_ walk away on purpose as revenge to my previous teasing!” 

“Can we grab a coffee and go to Stark’s Pond?” Kyle asked instead, breaking their embrace. “I haven’t gotten my daily dose of caffeine yet.” 

“Dude! Flirty you is a cocktease. This is brand new information! Does Stan know?” 

Kyle shot him a murderous look. “Kenny, are you even listening to me?” 

“Yeah, yeah, Stark’s Pond. Go on ahead, I’ll just… lag behind.” 

“I am regretting all of my life choices right now.” 

“I am not. Man, I wish I had known before. The wasted opportunities!” 

“And to think people call you the silent one of the group. You talk too much.” Kyle rolled his eyes and walked away, quickening his pace to be two steps ahead of Kenny. Not to please the blonde, mind you. Not at all. 

***

When they arrived at Stark’s Pond – Tweek Bros. coffees in hand – they found Officer Barbrady occupying the only bench the park provided. Back curved, the middle-aged man stared at the horizon, completely immobile save for taking the occasional sips from a bottle hidden in a chip bag. Only when Kyle practically loomed over him did Barbrady notice their arrival and raise his gaze towards them. 

“Oh, hey boys.” 

His nose was shiny and red. Kyle couldn’t tell if it was because of the cold, the flu or the alcohol he was obviously ingurgitating. The sunglasses hid the expression in his eyes, but they did nothing to camouflage the sagging, tears-streaked cheeks underneath. His clothes were in a complete state of disarray and Kyle had to take a step back and clutch his nose at the stench emanating from the other’s body. 

Sliding an arm around Kyle’s shoulders, Kenny carefully pulled the redhead towards him and stared at the older man with a mixture of pity and wonder. The sudden protective gesture surprised Kyle greatly. Barbrady too arched an eyebrow at them, making Kyle blush in embarrassment. 

“It’s a nice day today,” Barbrady said, swaying to the side and patting the bench, as if encouraging them to sit down next to him. Neither Kyle nor Kenny made a move to accept the invitation. “Come sit down. The view is wonderful.” 

As the two shared a look, Kyle felt Kenny’s arm tense around him. 

“It’s okay,” Kyle decided to say. “We were just… passing through.” 

Barbrady nodded absentmindedly. He raised the bottle to his lips and hiccupped, face contorting when the glass knocked against his teeth. 

Kyle didn’t remember the last time he had seen Barbrady in such state. He had always been a cheerful man, always happy to help the kids out. Sure, he had shot a boy by mistake once, which almost cost him his job, but the law enforcement had decided to keep him around - even when he should have been discharged from service years before. Rumors had it Barbrady had saved the town from some kind of catastrophe early in his career, twenty or so years before, and thus was granted the role of South Park’s favorite mascot for life. It was hard to see him suffer. He was loved by everyone but Yates, who entered service much later and didn’t give a shit about Barbrady’s past heroic acts. 

Kyle nudged Kenny to the side, silently suggesting they should walk away as fast as they could. Once again, Barbrady noticed their subtle body language. 

“I know I’m a mess.”

Raw guilt surged within Kyle. Cheeks flaming, he quickly shook his head. “No, no, we’re just in a hurry. It was good to see you again, Officer Barbrady.” Kenny quickly nodded in agreement besides him.

The man stared at them both, hard. “How can you be so kind after what I’ve done to you?” His voice wavered. Kenny and Kyle shared a look and winced in unison when the old man started crying, wailing like a small baby. 

“It’s all my fault,” he wheezed between sobs. “If I hadn’t helped him out… if I’d just told him no…”

“He’s wasted,” Kyle whispered in Kenny’s ear. “We’ve got to bug out.” 

“What do you think happened to him?” Kenny mumbled under his breath. He tried to walk away, pulling Kyle alongside him, but Barbrady lifted a hand to stop them. 

“He was such a good boy.” Barbrady took a long sip from his bottle. “He was your friend, wasn’t he? He had such a silly name… but he was a good boy…”

Kyle froze. Heart beating fast, Kyle shoved Kenny’s arm off his shoulder and kneeled down to Barbrady’s eye-level. The stench left him short of breath, and Kyle raised the collar of his jacket to protect his nostrils. 

“What are you talking about, Officer Barbrady?” he asked, voiced muffled. Nevertheless, the man seemed to understand him loud and clear. 

“Leopold.” The man peered into Kyle’s eyes through his dirty sunglasses. He let out another sob that echoed Butters’ name and grabbed Kyle’s arm. “He asked me for help. He wanted to know about his best friend’s murder and I…” Wiping the tears away, Barbrady struggled to utter his next words. “I granted his wish. Had I known it was a death sentence…”

Barbrady’s fingers dug into Kyle’s flesh. He winced in pain, letting out a sigh of relief when Kenny slapped Barbrady’s hand away and pulled him away from the other’s needy grasp. 

“I killed that boy.” 

“No, it was - !” Kyle shot a wary look at Kenny. Eyes cast down, the blonde fixed his attention on his shoes. “It was not your fault. It was an accident.” 

“I killed him,” Barbrady whispered. “I gave him the coroner’s report. And I shouldn’t have told him…” Kyle’s eyes narrowed into slits. “…I shouldn’t have told him and Harrison that we were dealing with a…” His voice faded away. 

“The Slenderman?” Kyle supplied helpfully, but Barbrady shook his head vigorously. 

“He loved his friend, and I threw him to the wolves,” Barbrady said. “He had so much life ahead of him and I pushed him to his death.” 

A mournful expression fell over the older man. He shook his bottle, grimacing when not one drop of alcohol trickled out. With a pained gasp, Barbrady pulled himself up and threw the bottle on the ground. 

Kyle’s hand searched for Kenny’s fingers. The lump in his throat lessened somewhat as Kenny gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. They watched Barbrady walk away in silence, swaying from side to side as if moving along with the cold wind. The bench was free again, but neither of them wanted to sit on it anytime soon. 

“It wasn’t his fault.” Kyle turned to face Kenny. When he noticed the blonde’s eyes going dark, he swiftly shut his mouth. 

Kyle wanted to discuss what just happened, but at the same time, he knew that were he to speak Kevin’s name, Kenny would not think twice about leaving him there alone with his thoughts. Even Stan knew Kevin was a sore subject. 

Kyle didn’t want to risk losing Kenny to any of this. He had long decided to keep Kenny out of his investigations, but his determination to leave him in the dark was slowly faltering. There were so many questions he wanted to ask about the McCormicks, about Kevin’s love for his family, about Cecilia and Sandra and Stuart. Judging by the coldness and distance in the other’s touch, Kyle could make a wild guess about Kenny’s reaction, should Kyle bring those topics up. 

In that moment, the idea of not having Kenny by his side literally made him sick. 

So, he kept his mouth shut. 

“Barbrady must be the only one I know who sincerely mourned Butters’ loss,” Kyle said. Kenny’s attention focused on him. Kyle licked his lips. “It’s weird.” 

Kenny furrowed his eyebrows. Kyle cleared his throat. 

“I just… it’s weird how things changed, you know? Cartman and Butters are not here anymore. Wendy went to college, Jimmy and Timmy followed soon after… Token decided to stay when everybody thought he’d fly to England at the earliest opportunity. And we…” Kyle gazed into Kenny’s eyes. “And… our siblings are dating.” The slight upward tug of Kenny’s lips warmed Kyle’s heart. His fear of losing him slowly dissipated into nothing. “I mean, isn’t _that_ weird? I didn’t think Ike was interested in anyone that wasn’t over forty. And what does Karen see in him, anyway?” 

“Are you seriously asking me?” Kenny asked with a soft laugh, mood clearly improved. 

“No, I know what you’re going to say.” A cold breeze infiltrated through the collar of his jacket, making him shiver. “But I am baffled. How did it come to this?” 

Kenny’s thumb found Kyle’s jaw. “Ah, apparently McCormicks don’t mind dating Broflovskis?” 

“Hmm. Does that mean your father wants to take my dad out on a date?” 

“Dude!” Snorting, Kenny punched his shoulder playfully. “The mental image is gonna scar me for life.” 

Kyle shuddered. “I brought it upon myself, I’ll give you that.” 

The laughter that followed quickly died away. Lifting his coffee to his mouth, Kyle shifted his weight from one leg to the other. The plastic cap was cold against his bottom lip. The coffee’s strong aroma covered the scent of Kenny’s skin. He lowered the cup to his chest. 

“Have you ever thought about me this way?” Kyle finally asked. “Before, I mean.” 

Kenny took his time to answer and every second felt like torture to Kyle. 

Finally, Kenny shrugged. “Sometimes.” 

Kyle did a double take. “Sometimes?” 

“It got stronger after… Cartman.” 

Kyle didn’t ask him to elaborate. “Even when you flipped through those Playboys?” 

“Ah.” Kenny grinned. “Those were what I call a nice, sexy distraction.” 

“A nice, sexy distraction?” Kyle parroted, mouth twisting in distaste. Kenny winked. 

“Pretty nice and sexy, in fact. Especially this month’s issue was so damn hot and - !” 

“I don’t wanna know,” Kyle interrupted him. 

“They even gave us a sneak peek at next year’s calendar and you should see April!” 

“_I said_, I don’t wanna know.” 

Kenny laughed. “Are you getting jealous over fake boobs?” 

“No,” Kyle said, hopefully not too fast. 

“Don’t worry, Kyle. You’re addictive. Now that I know what you taste like, I don’t care about April at all.” Kyle hid his face in Kenny’s parka. 

“You’re a fart and I hate you.” 

“Aww. I can feel you smiling.” 

“The coffee is getting cold,” was all Kyle managed to say. 

***

With a heavy heart, Kyle left Kenny in front of City Wok and took the bus to Stan’s house. It felt nice to be Stan’s super best friend again, after that slump their relationship had to go through. After briefing him about his encounter with Barbrady, Kyle suggested they played video games. A full immersion would greatly help him with forgetting about Kenny for a moment. 

That day, however, Stan seemed inclined to thwart his plans. 

“So, how is it going with Kenny?” 

Kyle didn’t divert his eyes away from the game. The question, though, surprised him enough to allow Stan to win the round. And they had just started. 

“Damn it.” 

“_Dude._” Stan laughed. “Even babies can win this round!” 

“It’s your fault!” 

“I just asked about Kenny. No harm there,” Stan said as they waited for the game to load the next scene. 

“Yeah, no harm my ass. I’m trying not to think about him.” 

Stan arched an eyebrow. “Did you two fight already?” 

“No.” Kyle blushed hard. Stan nodded in understanding and looked back at the screen, suddenly uneasy. 

“You’re in that phase, huh?” 

“What phase?” Kyle asked, regretting it immediately when Stan pinched his nose. 

“You know, the phase where you just can’t stop thinking about her and you want to always be by her side and do… stuff?” 

“Do you have any better games than this one?” Kyle rushed to say. “Anything where I can shoot you?” 

“Rude.” Stan paused the game and searched through his video game collection. “I’m just saying.” 

“We’re not going through any phase.” 

“Yeah, I can see that.” Stan rolled his eyes. “Oh, well. Enjoy it while it lasts.” 

“You’re always so cynical.” Kyle pointed at one of the video games. “That one.” 

“I realized pretty soon that the worst comes immediately afterwards, that’s why,” Stan said, shoving the rest of the video games away with his leg. “It’s only when that phase’s over that you begin to understand who she really is. It’s a point of no return. Once the phase’s over, you finally can see straight and understand whether the two of you can keep the relationship strong or not. It’s damn hard.” 

“I seriously don’t want any relationship advice from you right now,” Kyle said, watching the opening credits of their new game absentmindedly. 

“Dude, you’re so cranky when Kenny’s not around.” 

Kyle glanced at him sideways. His mild irritation only increased when he noticed Stan’s imperceptible, but incredibly smug grin. 

“Do you think this is funny?” Kyle snapped. “I am suffering over here.” 

Stan snorted. “No, this is not funny at all.” 

Kyle hmph-ed. Under Stan’s scrutinizing gaze, he felt his angry expression slowly fade away. 

“I think you’re going to work out,” Stan said with a smile, catching Kyle completely off-guard. “In any case, I’ll be here for you.” 

Kyle bit his lip. “Honestly? I thought I was stronger than this.” 

“You are strong. It’s just hard at first… for everyone.” Stan started the game. “This is why I’ll let you shoot me to hell and back today. I guess I can be nice to you for once.” 

Kyle laughed. “Oh, no need. I can shoot you to hell and back with my eyes closed!” 

“Bring it on.” 

Kyle fixed his gaze on the screen. For the rest of the day, until he returned home later that evening, he managed to keep his thoughts on Kenny at bay. 

***

“Where are you going? And dressed like that, no less?” 

Kyle had just plunked himself onto the couch after a long day of playing video games when Ike stormed in the living room with their mother in tow. Kyle looked up from his smartphone just in time to see Sheila staring at Ike crossly as he put on the thinnest jacket he possessed. Sharing a look, Kyle and Gerald made themselves more comfortable on the couch to watch the scene unfolding before them. 

“What’s up with the James Dean look?” Gerald asked. Kyle tried hard to suppress his laughter. 

“What? Too sexy?” Ike passed his hands over his incredibly tight jeans. 

“It’s less than 30 degrees outside!” Sheila exclaimed. “You’re going to catch a cold, mister.” 

Ike shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “_Mom_, we’re going to sweat like pigs at Jake’s party.” 

“You’re going to a party?” Kyle asked, surprised. 

“I have friends, unlike some people.” Ike smirked as he tied his shoelaces. “And, unlike some people, I’m the life and soul of every party.” Kyle rolled his eyes. 

“But we were supposed to spend these days together,” Sheila piped up. “I’ve even made sufganiot.” 

“I’ll eat ten tomorrow for breakfast.” Ike ran to Sheila and pulled her into a rib-crushing hug. Sheila just frowned in response. “I swear, mom, I’m going to stick to you like a limpet on a rock for the rest of Hanukkah. It’s just for tonight!” 

“Oh, alright.” Expression softening, Sheila caressed Ike on the head. 

“You’re the best! I love you!” Ike exclaimed. 

Gerald sighed and went back to his TV show. “Just give me a ring if you need a ride home.” 

Ike grinned. “Sure thing.” With that said, he ran out the door. 

Sheila sighed. “If anyone’s hungry, dinner’s ready.” 

Kyle and Gerald rushed to their feet and followed her into the kitchen. 

The evening passed swiftly into night. The full moon peeked out from behind the clouds. 

The Broflovskis’ house fell silent. 

***

Kyle jolted awake. 

His breathing was calm, but his heart was beating a hundred miles per second. In the silence of the night, he could hear his pulse pounding against his eardrums - buzzing like a swarm of bees. 

Moonlight slithered through the open window. The curtains moved with an inexistent wind, bringing the image of a ship lost at sea to mind. A shipwreck. 

Kyle heard thunder. A shiver ran up his spine as his feet touched the cold floor. 

Outside, the sky was clear. No one. No sound. Kyle stared. 

Long, dark fingers, like spider’s legs, moved underneath the moonlight. They quivered, spread over the floor, reached for Kyle’s ankles… and yet, he did nothing but stare. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t curious about any possible outcomes either. He was just there; a spectator to his own nightmare. 

Sudden scratching sounds. Kyle turned his head towards the closed door. Four claw marks appeared out of nowhere on dark wood, moving onwards, tracing four bloody paths on the wall… furrowing his eyebrows, Kyle took a tentative step towards a white door on his left. 

The claw marks vanished into thin fog. 

Pushing the door open, Kyle’s senses returned. The golden knob felt hot under his palm. Sadness overwhelmed him. His eyes stung, but no tears streamed down his cheeks. The white bathroom was small but sophisticated. A blue bathrobe hung on the wall next to the mirror. Fog swirled around his ankles. Kyle felt cold. 

Someone was curled into a ball in the bathtub. Kyle moved closer, arching an eyebrow when he didn’t see his reflection in the mirror. But that was not important. He heard a scream behind him. But that wasn’t important either. The young boy was shivering in the corner. Kyle stared down at him, took him in. He felt the muscles in his face relax. 

Ike was staring at the door, right through him. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell. Fast. Kyle got in the bathtub too and stood above Ike. He tried to understand what he was supposed to do, but nothing came to mind. He was too sad to think straight. His stomach constricted. His throat constricted. Ike wasn’t looking at him. He didn’t see him. Dark eyes focused on the door, Ike shook with fear. Small, cold clouds accompanied his rapid breathing. Suddenly, the faucet turned on. Blood glided over the porcelain. Crimson red over white bone. 

The bathtub filled up slowly. 

Ike moved his lips. 

Kyle bent down. “What did you say?” 

Ike wasn’t looking at him. 

“Ike.” Kyle stretched out his hand. He should have been able to touch him, but his arm just went right through him, fingers curling on thin air. Ankle-deep in blood, Kyle tried again. “Ike! Wake up, Ike!” he screamed. Was he screaming? A shadow moved in his peripheral vision. The dark, elongated spider legs had found him. Throwing them an irritated glance, Kyle kneeled to Ike’s eye level. Blood splattered on his face. 

“Ike! _Snap out of it_!” 

At Kyle’s lament, Ike’s breathing caught in his throat. 

For a couple of seconds, nothing happened. 

Kyle’s eyes wandered all over Ike’s face and down to his folded arms around his knees. Ike’s chest wasn’t rising and falling anymore. Kyle touched him. This time, his hand found skin. Ike turned towards him, incredibly slowly. A myriad of emotions crossed his face – fear, confusion, understanding, numbness… happiness. 

“I knew it,” Ike finally said, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so glad I got something right. I was starting to believe I wasn’t as smart as I thought.” 

Irritated, Kyle shook Ike’s shoulder. The fabric of his brother’s shirt was smeared in blood. Panic surged within him. “What the fuck are you talking about?! Do you think this is the right time for some ego stroking? You know very well you’re smarter than me. Now stop being an asshole and let’s go!” 

“I’m so glad I got something right,” Ike repeated, a grin tugging at his lips. “I wanted to see you. I know I’m the best brother in the world, but you’re not so bad either. I wanted you to know that.” 

“Stop joking, Ike.” Heart galloping, Kyle tried to pull Ike to his feet. The blood had almost reached the brim and was threatening to flood the bathroom. Ike didn’t move. 

“I was wrong, Kyle.” Still curled into a ball, Ike smiled. His face was radiating light whilst droplets of blood stained the bathroom tiles. “Tell mom I’m sorry, okay? I know she wanted to celebrate Hanukkah together, but I don’t think I am gonna make it. She’s going to be so mad.” 

“Stop blabbering and stand up!” Kyle shouted. Tears burned his eyes. “Stand up!” 

“I should have told you _everything_ sooner. And maybe - !” 

“STAND UP!” Kyle grabbed Ike’s shoulders and pulled hard. 

His brother slipped through his fingers and fell backwards, sinking into blood. 

“Ike? Ike?! IKE! _IKE_!” 

Kyle whipped around. The door was slowly closing. 

Someone was screaming. 

A piercing sound. 

Blood engulfed him. 

***

“Kyle! Kyle, wake up!” 

Kyle jolted awake. Breathing fast, his heart was beating a hundred miles per second. He could hear his pulse pounding against his eardrums - buzzing like a swarm of bees. The night was anything but silent. 

Someone was screaming. 

“Gerald, call a doctor!” 

“Kyle! Kyle, snap out of it!” 

_Snap out of it?_ Kyle looked up. The screaming stopped. Sheila’s worried face appeared through his blurry vision. 

“Mom?” His throat ached, his voice croaked. “Mom, I’m sorry.” 

His mother’s hand stroked his hair lovingly. His cheeks felt hot. “Sssh, it’s alright, baby. It was just a nightmare.” 

Kyle’s lips trembled. “Mom, I’m so sorry.” 

“Are you alright, Kyle?” His father moved closer to his bed, pressing a phone against his ribcage. 

“Mom, I’m so sorry.” 

“Why are you apologizing so much?” Sheila asked, exchanging a quick look with Gerald. “Nothing happened. It was just a nightmare, honey. We’re here now. Nothing is going to happen to you.” 

Kyle swallowed. His face contorted in pain. 

Police sirens howled in the distance, drowning out the sound of his wailing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was writing this chapter listening to Brothers in Arms by Dire Straits, thus the title. If you haven't already, I recommend listening to this song. It's amazing.  
Now, let me thank you @LWTIS for the comments, the support and the beta she did!  
And thank you once again, my wonderful readers, for loving this story so far. <3<3


	12. Silence

Ike’s room was just as he had left it: a tidy mess of posters and books on the floor, action figures looming over the unmade bed and a series of cool tech gadgets surrounding Ike’s PC. Collecting dusk, in an old carton box underneath, was a collection of plastic spelling bee trophies that Ike had won one after the other in Elementary School, patiently awaiting their fate. Ike had wanted to throw them out years before, but Sheila hadn’t let him. So they remained there, day after day, year after year, completely forgotten. 

Ike would have hated it. 

He would have hated having all the family gathered in his tiny room, in his “sanctuary”, so holy that everyone - even Sheila - never entered without knocking. Ike had no need for _Get Out_ signs on his door. Ike never had to fight as much as Kyle to protect his privacy. Ike had the kind of talent Kyle would have given his kidney to have. The talent to be respected, to be listened to, to be liked and looked up to, despite his arrogance. 

Kyle stared at his reflection on the PC’s screen. Lips screwed into a serious look, eyes hard, jaw set… Kyle didn’t recognize the man staring at him. If Kyle closed his eyes, he could even hear the man’s silent scream. It would have been louder, had it not been for his mother’s incessant sobbing. 

He didn’t dare to look at her. He knew what she looked like – curled into a ball next to Gerald, cradling Ike’s idea of a _best mom_ gift: a cuddly toy snake with a note in its mouth (_I love you thisss much_, it said with a wink). After carefully untying the ribbon whilst gushing about how happy she was that Ike had thought of her on his school trip, she had thrown it at his face with a surprised screech. Ike knew just how much she hated snakes. But she loved Ike, so she had picked it back up and put it on her bedside table. For the first time in three years, the snake had the honor of seeing another room of the house. 

Gerald was patting Sheila’s back. Both dressed in black, they sat on Ike’s bed, holding each other for support. Only Kyle remained standing. He had attended the funeral in a terribly hazy state of mind. He had shaken hands without looking people in the eye. He had accepted their condolences. He had felt someone hug him. He had let himself be manhandled from one place to another. Before he knew it, he had returned home. He had followed his parents to Ike’s room and only realized where he was when he stood in front of his brother’s desk. For the most part of the day, Kyle had been nothing but a puppet on a string. 

Things got really weird when he shared a glance with that puppet through Ike’s PC. 

_“By the way, if things get weird, I’ve got just what you need in my second drawer, in the hidden compartment.” _

Ike’s words rang soft and remote in his head, like a bell chiming a mournful song. It felt like a lifetime ago. Kyle wondered why he had felt so ashamed that day. He didn’t remember what triggered Ike into telling him to look in his second drawer in case of emergency. Had Kyle been with Kenny that day? Hmm, right. Kenny had been there, hadn’t he? And Ike… Ike… Absentmindedly, he reached down for the drawer. The reflection of the puppet’s eyes on the PC’s screen - with their distant, faraway look - confused him. It lasted but a moment. Quickly ignoring the feeling of alienation in his guts, Kyle opened the drawer and rifled through the stationery items. His fingers slid over wood, then something akin to plastic. A slight push was rewarded by a softer _click_. 

“I don’t want to stay here anymore!” Sheila exclaimed between sobs. “Let’s leave this goddamned place! _Let’s leave_!”

Kyle didn’t turn to look at her. He opened the drawer all the way and took out a small black, worn-out notebook. Heart beating fast, Kyle leafed through it, eyes scanning the pages at incredible speed. Not deeming his parents worthy of a glance, he quickly walked away to barricade himself in his room. The black tie around his neck was suffocating him. Breathing hard, Kyle tossed it on the floor. 

Ike’s neat handwriting filled his vision. Kyle swallowed hard as he read through the notes: the coroner’s report about the Cartmans, Butters’ whereabouts the day he died, Kevin’s confession, Barnaby suspected as a possible cause for Butters’ death…. Ike had even discovered Jimbo’s off-the-book business! But the worst thing Kyle had to see were copies of Biggle’s book, carefully stapled to the notebook’s last pages. Kyle couldn’t read the chapter about werewolves through his blurry vision. Regardless, every highlighted word was as blinding as the sun itself. 

Tamer. Heart. Poison. Adolf McCormick. 

And then.

Kyle flipped through the book and shook his head, confused as to why Ike had thought that chapter was relevant in any way to the case at hand. 

_Chapter VIII: Banshees. _

There was a word Ike had circled twice in red: death tamer. A small arrow pointed to the edge of the page, where Ike had written in tiny, almost illegible letters: _are death tamers and tamers the same?_

A tear fell on the word _death_. Quickly wiping his eyes with his sleeve, Kyle proceeded to read what Biggle had to say on the matter. 

_Banshees are not as beautiful as folklore likes to depict them, just as their male counterparts, the Farshees, are not as hideous as people would like them to be. These supernatural creatures - females and males alike - are nothing astonishing per se, and can blend in with humans as easily as a drop of seawater in a lake. Contrary to other creatures described in this book, they are quite weak beings, lacking common extraordinary capabilities such as incredible strength or telepathic powers. Their peculiarity is their ability to foresee the final death of other supernatural creatures [1]. Banshees and Farshees are naturally attracted to other supernatural creatures […] In fact, this particular power was a favorite tool among Inquisitors in the Middle Ages. […] Witch-slayers, who were lucky enough to find and tame a Banshee, used them to their advantage to make sure a witch was not tricking them into believing they were dead. Banshees were widely used during the Vampire Wars in the twelfth century to ensure that any human bitten by a vampire was not turned into one [….]_

Kyle’s gaze dropped to the illustration next to the paragraph. He ran his thumb over the weeping Banshee standing next to the burning witch stake and continued reading, gaze lingering on the words Ike had underlined a little longer than was strictly necessary. 

_Many Banshees and Farshees do not know they belong to the fae until late into their lifespans [6]. Their powers manifest when a person remarkably close to them, often a mere human being, dies. However, Banshees and Farshees unlock their full potential only when a close relative, like a parent, sibling or soulmate meets their end. Even when the victim does not belong to the supernatural world, the Banshee’s reaction to their death is just as tragic and heartbreaking as it would be for any other supernatural being. It is immensely interesting that these aforementioned categories are an exception to the rule under which Banshees and Farshees only foresee the final death of supernatural creatures within a six miles radius. […] The vastity of the area has yet to be confirmed [5,7]. Different supernatural researchers – such as T. de Torquemada – have noted that the trance state that Banshees and Farshees fall into when their human relatives are killed is very similar to the state that follows the death of a supernatural being. Common folk are not granted the same honor. De Torquemada writes in his notes: “Banshees beg us (Author’s note: the inquisitors) not to kill the Innocent, but have no idea when the final blow will be struck, while they scream like the Beast when a fellow creature of the netherworld is going to be cut to pieces in the adjoining room.” […] _

Shivers running up and down his spine, Kyle flipped the page and quickly jumped to the next sub-chapter. Gaze drawn once again to the word circled twice in red, he followed his brother’s handwriting delicately with his finger. 

_[…] According to a famous medieval song, only a Death Tamer can dry the tears of a weeping Death Bringer. […] It is not clear what a Death Tamer is able to do, as no one can claim to have interviewed one. Many researchers believe that Death Tamers are related to lycanthrope Tamers (see chapter XVIII on lycanthropes). Others claim that they are the only supernatural beings for which the Banshees and Farshees cannot predict their final deaths [9]. My theory is that Death Tamers are immortal creatures, but more research should be carried out on the matter. In any case, it is certain that these two creatures are linked in more ways than just the title_ death. _[…]. _

What a bunch of bullshit. 

Kyle might have started believing in the supernatural, but he sure as hell drew the line at immortality. Nonsense. Nonsense. _Nonsense!_ Nothing lived forever. No one lived forever. People died. And they died in horrifying ways too. Some people didn’t deserve to die. But people did die. His brother didn’t deserve to die. And yet, he was dead. It was all Kyle’s fault. All this bullshit about werewolves, tamers and fucking Banshees that Ike had carefully studied was all Kyle’s fault.

“And now he’s dead.”

If only he hadn’t asked Ike to hack into the police records. If only he had _foreseen_ that Ike would not stop until he got to the bottom of the missing hearts’ mystery. If only he had remembered how freaking clever Ike was. It was all Kyle’s fault. Ike had followed a different path to Kyle. Whereas Kyle stumbled into new information like the worst detective in the world, Ike tracked down clues like an incredibly young Sherlock Holmes. Kyle should have known better, and should have stopped him before Ike could find out who the werewolf was. Because Kyle was sure that Ike knew and was killed because of it. 

“The werewolf killed him.”

When the breaking news flashed on TV the next day, Ike’s murderer was glaringly obvious to Kyle. Even now, he could picture the blonde reporter so clearly in his mind’s eye, pointing at the house behind her. Sirens howling, police officers barking out orders, blood trails leading outside the small, two-storey suburban house. Eye-popping witnesses with blankets around their shoulders, mere teenagers who had no idea what had just happened. They were just there, having fun at Jake Rodriguez’s Christmas party. One moment, the music was pounding - and then there was screaming and people started running. Whoever remained inside the house died, the rest seeking solace in the neighboring houses. Eight teenagers were brutally mauled. Among them, Ike Broflovski. 

No. Immortality was not a tangible thing. But claw marks on the wall and a bloodied bathroom were. The killing spree started on the second floor. Ike had been found in the guest bathroom. His friends had no idea why he’d been there and, most importantly, with whom.

_“Did you see anyone suspicious wandering around the house?” the reporter asked, shoving the mic right under a boy’s nose. _

_“No… I mean, I was kinda tipsy, so I might be mistaken. There was a boy, a man, I dunno. He desperately wanted in, but Kathrine kicked him out.”_

Kyle could still see the reporter’s eyes, flashing with interest at that statement. She moved on to a girl who might or might not have been Kathrine and asked: _“Can you describe him to us?”_

_“He looked poor. His jacket was tattered.”_

Kyle closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Hand shaking vigorously, Kyle flipped the page. The article on Sandra McCormick’s murder engulfed his vision. He had no strength to read it. The last entry in Ike’s notebook was four names, messily written one under the other. 

Stuart McCormick (crossed out with a note that said: _According to Karen, her parents always go on a trip during the full moon_).

Kevin McCormick (crossed out). 

Kenny McCormick (underlined). 

Karen McCormick (there was a T next to her name). 

Hot tears fell on Karen’s name. With a howl of rage, Kyle hurled Ike’s notebook against the door - only to pick it up again a moment later to tenderly stick the ripped pages back together with tape. 

Half an hour later, Kyle slipped out of his trancelike state and left his room again. He climbed down the stairs, not even bothering to tell his parents he was going out. He closed the door behind him as silently as he could. His feet moved with no specific destination in mind. He only realized which direction he was heading when he found himself surrounded by tombstones. He snorted - more out of self-pity than amusement - and proceeded down the row to his right. 

Eric Cartman’s gravestone was as large as its owner had been. Although Kyle knew Cartman would have loved one, there was no picture on it - just his name written in fancy bold letters, followed by a quote: ‘_If I could do it all again, I wouldn’t change a thing’_.

Kyle shook his head in disbelief and looked up at the sun, shining brightly in the winter blue sky. Besides him, there was only one young man standing at the far end of the cemetery. For a moment, Kyle thought it was Ike sitting by one of the tombstones - but clearly, he was wrong. The black-haired man looked nothing like his brother. Dressed completely in black, his pale face stood out like an unsettling mask. They shared a quick look – the man grinned and waved. Kyle didn’t bother returning the gesture and focused his attention on Cartman’s name again. 

“It’s all your fault,” Kyle told the cold marble. His voice came out forced – his throat was burning. “It’s all your fucking fault, you fatass donkey.” 

Letting out a sigh of frustration, Kyle wiped his eyes and turned around, searching for some distraction. He even looked for the black-haired man, but he had vanished into thin air. Kyle had no other choice but to continue talking to Cartman. 

“I hate you.” He nudged the stone lightly with his foot. “I fucking hate you. All you’ve ever done was ruin my life. You just couldn’t let it go, could you? You just _had_ to get yourself killed! If you hadn’t pulled that stunt, everything would be good now, you fat turd! You know that, right?! Oh, I bet you do. You’re laughing your fucking ass off, I’m sure. I hate you. I hate you so much, I wish you were alive so I could kill you with my bare hands again. If only you had let the matter drop! Who cares about werewolves, Cartman?! Who _cares_?! What would you have done with that info, huh?! Why did you even bother?! Butters almost _killed_ for you! Is that what you wanted? I bet you liked that, huh? You sadistic bitch. And guess what? He’s dead! Because of you! And because of you, I went against the law and broke into your house! And because of you, Kevin is in jail! And because of you, I tried to find out who killed you! And because of you, I got my brother killed! The werewolf fucking got him, do you understand what that means?!” Kyle’s voice had reached hysteria. He groaned and kicked the stone harder, loving the way his toes ached in protest. “You bastard! There you go! You took Ike away from us! Serves me right, you say? Of course! Of course, because you hated us so fucking much! You hated me and everything I loved! _Kahl, you fucking Jew._” Kyle picked a pebble up. “Hah. Well, you antisemitic son of a dog, I wish I’ve done this long ago.” He threw the pebble upon Cartman’s grave and bent down to pick up another. “If I had put more stones on your grave, maybe you would have stayed put.” He started laughing as he covered Cartman’s grave with stones and pebbles. “I hope you like that. I hate you.” He threw another stone. “I hate you.” Another stone. “I hate you!” Another stone. “Bring my brother back.” Another stone. “Give me _my life back_!” Kyle shouted, hurling the last stone at the gravestone. 

He fell on his knees, yanked his hair and screamed. 

The earth shuddered. 

Kyle felt dizzy and out of breath. When he opened his eyes again, there was a crack along the quote on Cartman’s grave, cutting the word ‘_wouldn’t_’ in two, like lighting. 

He sat down on the dirt and looked at the sky, vision going in and out of focus. 

“Kyle?” 

Jumping with alarm, Kyle whipped around. He blinked in surprise and swallowed hard as Kenny, dressed completely in black, stared back at him with eyes wide as saucers. Had Kenny attended Ike’s funeral? Kyle didn’t remember him being there. But even if he had, Kyle didn’t really care. Kenny was the last person he wanted to see that day - and ever. 

“Kyle?” 

Slowly, the redhead pushed himself to his feet. “H-how did you find me?” 

Kenny hesitated. He looked just as lost as Kyle was feeling. “I…” Furrowing his eyebrows, Kenny dropped his gaze at his sneakers. “I dunno. I swear I heard you calling me.”

“What?” 

Kyle walked over to him, fist clenching and unclenching. He didn’t _want_ to see Kenny in that moment, but the closer they were, the calmer Kyle felt, the more Kyle _needed_ him. Even his throat stopped burning. Kenny bit his bottom lip and ran a hand through his hair. 

Suddenly, Kyle didn’t feel like tilting at windmills anymore. Knees buckling, he fell against Kenny, letting out a sigh of relief when the blonde wrapped his arms around his waist. It felt good… but also very wrong. Kyle wished he could pull away from that warm embrace and stand on his own two feet. He had always been a fighter. He couldn’t understand why he should act any different with Kenny. Yet, he did. Kyle let his guard down with him - and that was completely, utterly_ wrong_.

“I know I’ve told you this morning already,” Kenny whispered in his ear, pulling Kyle back to reality. The redhead pressed his forehead in the crook of Kenny’s neck and sighed. “But I’m so sorry about Ike.”

Not bothering to answer, Kyle pulled the other closer. 

“I wish I could - !”

“Kenny, don’t speak.”

“…okay.”

Closing his eyes, Kyle breathed in Kenny’s scent and relaxed completely in the other’s arms. With Kenny there, Kyle felt complete; but at the same time, it was like a part of him had been forever amputated. He knew there was something between them, a wall so high Kyle couldn’t see the top of it. He wanted to destroy it; but at the same time, he was afraid to see what was waiting for him on the other side. 

Kyle dug his fingers in Kenny’s back. He didn’t want to think of anything. 

All he wanted was silence. 

***

It took Kyle a couple of days to come to a decision and show Stan Ike’s notebook. Sitting cross-legged on his bed, Kyle waited patiently for Stan to read through it. Save for Stan’s loud footsteps, as he paced around the room like a beast in a cage, the Broflovski house was incredibly quiet. Sheila and Gerald had left South Park first thing in the morning for New Jersey, where their distant relatives lived. They assured Kyle they would be back for New Year’s Eve, but he frankly didn’t care if they ended up staying longer. 

Fiddling with his fingers, Kyle shot a worried glance at Stan’s greenish face. “So? What do you think?”

Stan abruptly stopped pacing and stared at Kyle as if seeing him for the first time. He opened his mouth, but all he managed to utter was a pitiful little whimper. 

Kyle groaned in frustration. “I _know._”

“There is no way this is happening.”

“I know.” Crestfallen, Kyle dropped his hands in his lap. He let his gaze wander around the room, searching for something that would make that moment a little more bearable. 

“Kyle.” Stan tossed the notebook on Kyle’s desk and was next to his friend in two strides. “I’m sure this is not what it looks like.”

Grimacing, Kyle moved to put some distance between them. “I don’t want to believe it either.”

“Why don’t we just… huh…” Stan hesitated. Kyle swallowed his anger and closed his eyes firmly. 

“I don’t want to speak to him right now.” 

“You can’t avoid him forever - you know that, right?”

“I can’t speak to him, Stan.” Kyle whipped around, face hard. “I can’t! Every time I’m near him, I feel… I feel…” Stan’s pitiful look just infuriated Kyle further. “Oh, you don’t understand!” 

Stan sighed loudly. He leaned against the wall, shifting his gaze back to the little notebook on the desk. “What do you want to do now?”

“I need proof.” Stan arched an eyebrow and stared, waiting for Kyle to elaborate. “I just need proof.” Kyle sighed. “I will break into Kenny’s house and search around for clues.”

“This is madness.” Stan pinched his nose. 

“You don’t need to come with me.”

“And pray tell, how are you going to sniff around the house without Kenny’s parents, Kenny _or_ Karen noticing?” he asked, ticking each name off on his fingers. 

Kyle stared at him, pointedly. “You are going to take care of it.”

“What?!”

“You are going to convince your mom to invite them over for dinner.”

“What the hell.” Stan massaged his temples. “They will never accept the invitation.”

“You have to try!” 

Stan groaned. “What if my mom invites you too? She’s terribly worried, especially now that your parents aren’t home.” 

“I’ll be sick that day.”

“And what if Kenny hears this, and starts worrying and comes here to check on you?”

“Tackle him and lock him in your room for all I fucking care!”

Stan groaned louder. “This is _madness_.”

“I just need to prove to myself that Ike was wrong.” Kyle grabbed Stan’s arm and forced him to meet his eyes. “I don’t want to believe that Kenny is the werewolf, but everything I’ve learnt so far points in that direction. The librarian’s words, the suspicious man wandering around Jake Rodriguez’s party, even Cartman continuous prattling about how Kenny was never there when we found those dead animals… everything, _everything_ points to Kenny’s guilt. And I hate that so fucking much. If it’s really true, I’d rather die this instant!” 

Silence fell over them. Stan’s gaze dropped to Kyle’s hand, clutching his jacket, then shifted over to the notebook. Kyle didn’t slacken his grip, not even when Stan whispered a hardly audible: “Don’t say that.”

After a couple of minutes, Stan sighed. “Is it true your parents want to move to New Jersey? Is this why they left?” he asked, suddenly changing the subject. Kyle shrugged and stared at his friend’s feet, dangling over the mattress. 

“My aunt told us she’s going to help them find a house, since mom doesn’t want to live in South Park anymore.”

“Do you?”

“I wish I knew what I wanted right now.”

Stan hummed. “Alright. You win. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.” Kyle finally let him go. 

They didn’t talk anymore after that. 

***

Sharon Marsh had no intentions to invite the McCormicks for dinner during the holy days, busy as she was organizing a _normal_ Christmas family gathering for once – or as normal as it could be with Randy Marsh’s festive bullshit. Shelley had come home for Christmas too, so all Sharon wanted was to enjoy a nice holiday without groaning into her hands as Randy and Stuart McCormick gobbled down one bottle of whiskey after the other in the living room. After Stan told Kyle all of that, they both agreed to give Sharon some peace of mind and postponed Kyle’s second B&E of his life to next year. 

“Mom practically agreed to it, anyways,” Stan said. “Shelley will beat it by New Year’s Day, so mom will be in a really depressed mood and will be keen to have people around. Yeah, my best bet is New Year’s Day.”

Kyle was okay with that, since his parents informed him they were going to stay in New Jersey a week longer than planned. Moreover, he was in no rush to break into Kenny’s house. No matter how much he itched to finally get an answer to all his questions, the truth terrified him. Hence, Kyle would gladly wait a couple more days.

“You know you’re invited too, right?” Stan added after a moment of hesitation. The fact Sharon considered him an integral part of the family made Kyle extremely emotional, which in turn made him feel extremely guilty for using her. “I’ll come up with something.” Stan gave Kyle’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, for which the redhead was incredibly grateful.

Thus, Kyle spent the rest of the year alone, eating what Sheila had left in the fridge for him and watching TV like a demented zombie. He didn’t mind the catatonic state the trashy reality shows forced him into. It was the only media that didn’t let him _think_. And thoughts were the last thing he needed right then. 

If left alone with them, Kyle’s brain would start buzzing. His gut would stir uneasily and melancholy would possess him, which would only mean that his need for Kenny was getting out of control. Then, anger would suffocate him and hate would rule over him. 

No. Kyle had no need for feelings. Isolation was not bad, after all. He could avoid the pitiful looks and forget he was part of a community of knuckleheads. True, his parents had been selfish in their decision to leave him alone in a house that had Ike written all over it, but Kyle was used to their faulty parenting by now. He could work around it. It would have been much more difficult to drive all the way to New Jersey, listening to his mom cry and Gerald’s pathetic attempt at jokes. No. Kyle definitely preferred to vegetate on the couch until the day he could finally carry out his plan. 

Indeed, New Year’s Eve arrived without Kyle noticing. The night was strangely calm and quiet. He could hear the snow falling softly against the windows. As the TV flickered in different shades of blue, he stared at the darkness outside. Suddenly, a blotch of orange obstructed his vision, and Kyle took a double take that sent him tumbling to the floor. 

Kenny was peering into the house. Their eyes locked. 

Kyle opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of the water. Kenny took a step away from the window. 

Kyle rushed to his feet and ran to the door, yanking it open violently. A winter breeze impregnated with snow blew into his face, and Kyle squinted his eyes into the darkness. His back to the front door, Kenny was swiftly walking down the pathway back to the street.

_“Kenny!”_

The blonde hesitated. Overwhelmed by contradicting emotions, Kyle left the door ajar and marched up to him. Kenny finally turned to face him head on. 

“How are you?” 

The question left Kyle breathless. The sound of Kenny’s voice injected life into his veins. He tried hard not to smile, but it was obvious he was failing. Kenny’s eyes too softened around the edges.

“It’s been weird.” Kyle intertwined their fingers together. 

“It’s been weird not having you around.” Kenny let Kyle pull him towards the front door. “Although I definitely understand why you’ve been avoiding people like the plague.”

Understanding shone from Kenny’s azure eyes. Kyle remembered the worry that had overwhelmed him when Kevin was arrested and Kenny decided it was a good idea to drown himself in alcohol. Maybe that explained the lack of accusation on Kenny’s face. He knew what Kyle was going through, and he wasn’t holding his self-imposed isolation against him. 

Kenny squeezed his fingers as Kyle led him into the living room and closed the door behind them. 

“It’s cold in here,” Kenny said. “You haven’t even turned on the heating?” 

“No need.” Kyle switched the TV off and sat back on the couch, pulling Kenny down with him. 

“Want me to warm you up?” 

With a snort, Kyle’s lips tugged upwards at Kenny’s lopsided smile. His gaze dropped to their intertwined hands. Their fingers aligned together perfectly, like pieces of a broken puzzle. 

The thought he might be holding hands with Ike’s murderer was pushed promptly to the back of his mind. He didn’t want to think. He wanted to act like a normal teen in love, for once. Just tonight, Kenny would be free of any guilt. Kyle wanted _Kenny_ right now. The werewolf could wait. 

“I’m not used to you being the silent one,” Kenny joked. Kyle looked up into Kenny’s eyes, noticing how the blonde swallowed under his heated gaze.

Kyle loved that. He loved _Kenny_.__

_ __ _

“I’ve never realized how much I love silence until now,” Kyle said. Surprised, Kenny arched an eyebrow. Kyle was aware of how his words sounded to Kenny’s ears. He wasn’t going to take it back, though. In that moment, Kyle wanted nothing more than Kenny to _know_.

_ __ _

“Yeah, I feel you.” 

_ __ _

Kenny lifted Kyle’s hand and kissed his knuckles gently. Kyle caressed Kenny’s cheek with the tip of his fingers.

_ __ _

“Thank you for coming over,” Kyle said as Kenny pressed his lips to Kyle’s open palm. “Spending New Year’s alone is kinda pathetic, don’t you think?” Kyle felt Kenny’s mouth tug into a smile against his skin. “Yeah, no need to rub it in, smartass.” Kenny waggled his eyebrows in a very eloquent way. A shiver ran down Kyle’s spine as Kenny’s bottom lip traced a path along Kyle’s ring finger. 

_ __ _

Kyle’s last thought - before his brain completely switched off - was that he could have that for one night, at least. Softly, he slipped his hand from Kenny’s grasp and let it slither to the blonde’s nape. Kenny shifted closer. 

_ __ _

As Kyle smashed their mouths together, fireworks went off in the distance. 

_ __ _

The New Year had come. 

_ __ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you @LWTIS for the comments, the support and the beta. I love you, my friend.   
And thank you, my amazing readers, for your support, for your comments and your kudos! You give me strenght to write!!


	13. A glimmer of happiness

Kyle woke to the sound of someone being rough with the crockery in the kitchen. With a groggy stretch, he opened his eyes. The satisfaction from a good night’s sleep quickly drained out of him the moment he remembered that Ike was not playing videogames in the other room. He clutched his sheets, pulling them over his head and rolled over on his other side, as if putting up a shield made of fabric between himself and the world would help him silence the grief in his heart. Breathing in Kenny’s lingering scent, Kyle let the warmth of the mattress softly lull him back to sleep…

_“Fuck!”_

Kyle’s ears pricked up at the cuss. Heart racing against his ribs, he jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. Was Ike there? Was he trying to make French toast for breakfast, like he used to when their parents weren’t home? The logical part of Kyle’s brain immediately refuted such a silly theory. But the smell of toasted bread was so real, the sound of cutlery so loud that Kyle let himself believe that he had just woken up from an awful nightmare. For a brief, hopeful moment, Kyle believed he would find Ike standing in the kitchen, breaking eggs and accidently dropping the slimy hunks on the floor. 

“Oh, fuck. Sorry. I was hungry and…did I wake you up? _Shit._”

The semi-conscious dream state abandoned Kyle for good. Incredulous, he stared at a wide-eyed Kenny - clasping a finger in one hand, blonde hair sticking up in all directions, barefoot and wearing what Kyle immediately recognized as his old, sleeveless basketball shirt. 

“What… the hell…?” Giving Kenny a good look-over, Kyle felt his cheeks flush. He willed himself to look away from Kenny’s long legs, gaze focusing on the bloodied knife on the counter.

“Oh, _shit_.” Kyle was at Kenny’s side in two strides. He gently unclasped Kenny’s fist and assessed the damage. Blood spilled on the floor. Gently but firmly, Kyle pulled Kenny’s hand under the tap to let cold water run over the wound. “What the fuck were you doing?”

“I know I wasn’t supposed to,” Kenny said, licking his lips in embarrassment. “I was searching the freezer for Eggos or something to eat, but I only found frozen containers that looked incredibly suspicious - !” He hissed as Kyle wiped his hand dry with a cloth. The redhead threw him an apologetic glance. 

“That’s the food mom stored away before she left for New Jersey,” Kyle said softly, dropping his gaze back on the wound. Once it wasn’t bleeding anymore, Kyle sighed in relief. With a lighter heart, he faced Kenny again and smiled. “So, since you didn’t find any Eggos, you decided to cut your finger off instead?”

“In my defense, I am still sleepy and that knife looked like a whisk.” 

Kyle snorted softly. “You’re adorable.” Kenny fell silent at that. Kyle was too occupied to notice the blonde’s rapid shift in mood. “I’ll get a bandaid for you. Try to leave the rest of your hand unscathed while I - !”

He locked eyes with Kenny and gasped, his unfinished sentence lingering in the silence and vanishing into nothing. There was something unusual about the way Kenny looked at him. It wasn’t that heated stare from the day they first kissed, nor that tender look that crossed Kenny’s face whenever Kyle bitched about something or another. It wasn’t that gaze, full of desire, from the night before either, or the relaxed expression Kyle was unable to take his eyes off when Kenny slept deeply besides him. No. It was something else that Kyle had never seen directed at him. For him. Because of him. 

And that something left Kyle utterly breathless. 

“No need.” Kenny swallowed and gently pulled his hand away from Kyle’s shaking grasp. “I’ve had way worse than this.”

“Uh… alright.” Throat suddenly dry, Kyle let his gaze drift away. 

There was tension in the air – the same awkwardness Kyle assumed two people felt at the breakfast table after spending their first night together. Not that Kyle had any experience with the matter. He had never gone that far with Rebecca, and all he had done with Kenny was kissing and holding him close. He couldn’t even blame the sudden fight-or-flight panic on the early casual conversations. They’ve had enough sleepovers to be way past that. Kyle couldn’t give a name to the catalyst for his racing heart. Awkwardness would be a stretch; shame would be a euphemism. 

No. 

It was just Kenny, looking at him in that particular way - and Kyle being confused about it. He liked the domesticity of it. He would even admit that he loved seeing Kenny wearing his clothes while messing around in the kitchen. It felt good... but it was too soon.

It was inappropriate. Had Kyle not read Ike’s notebook, he would have probably basked in the emotions prompted by Kenny’s gaze. But that was then, and this was now. 

He wasn’t making any sense, was he? Especially considering how they’ve found it literally impossible to keep their hands off each other for the past couple of months. Even the night before, Kyle had felt no shame in having Kenny’s tongue in his mouth. What changed? 

Ike’s death had changed everything. That's what it was. 

Kyle couldn’t help but think that should Kenny keep this up, he won’t be able to go through with his plan. For that gaze, Kyle was ready to bury the truth six feet under. He knew that. And it was frightening. Kyle couldn’t let that happen. All his investigation would be in vain. Ike’s death would be in vain…

“I know that face.” Kenny’s playful tone brought Kyle back to reality. “You’re thinking too hard about something.”

Kyle frowned, letting out a half-hearted _hey_ of protest when Kenny smoothed the wrinkle between his brows out with a thumb. 

“How’s your finger?” Kyle asked, changing the subject as fast as he could. Arching an eyebrow, Kenny dropped his gaze to his hand. 

“It kinda stings.” He grinned, wiggling his finger in front of Kyle’s nose. “Wanna kiss and make it better?” 

Without thinking, Kyle carefully took Kenny’s hand in his and pressed his lips against the wound. “I thought you’ve had worse.” Kenny’s surprised gasp made him smirk – a smile that lasted a mere second. 

A blush crawled up Kenny’s cheeks, sending a shiver down Kyle’s spine. 

Maybe Kyle was indeed thinking too much. Even if it was just for one day, he wanted to enjoy this while it lasted. It sounded selfish, but Kyle was selfish. He _wanted_ to be selfish. Even if it was just for an hour, he wanted a taste of a life they would never have the chance of having should things go awry. 

He deserved that much before revenge took that little happiness he had left away from him. 

***

Kenny and Kyle were eating their incredibly ugly, chunky and dry pancakes for breakfast when Stan called. Under Kyle’s disgusted gaze, Kenny washed down his pancakes with several gulps of milk directly from the carton. 

“You’re an animal,” Kyle said, wiping his finger over Stan’s profile picture to take the call. Kenny winked, and Kyle had to look down at his hands to hide his growing smile. He let Stan do the talking, but he didn't pay any attention. Kenny was too distracting with his teasing smiles, the playful winking... 

_“Kyle? Are you even listening?”_

Kyle gasped when Kenny dropped his cold feet in his lap. “What the fuck!” 

The blonde burst out laughing. 

_“What the hell are you doing?”_

“Nothing!” Kyle pushed Kenny’s feet off. “What were you saying?”

Stan sighed from the other side. _“As I was saying, everything is going according to plan. Mom agreed to the famous dinner and dad is already making a list of the cocktails he wants to try. Mom called the McCormicks this morning and they accepted the invitation. Karen is going to Tricia’s today and no one knows when she’ll go back home, so there’s a good chance she will catch you in the act if - !”_

“That’s great.” Kyle smothered a laugh as Kenny started playing footsie under the table. “Stop it!”

_“Kyle, you are not listening.” _

“I am too.”

Kenny smirked, and Kyle had to excuse himself from the table before he jumped on him – or worse. 

_“I don’t know what Kenny’s plans are, since he didn’t come home last night and…”_

“He’s here,” Kyle said with a blush. “I’ll tell him.”

_“…Jesus Christ.”_

“Stan, don’t jump to conclusions.”

“Tell me what?” Kenny asked, suddenly getting serious. 

Stan sighed. _“Listen, are you sure you wanna go through with this plan? I don’t think you’re ready for - !”_

“Don’t tell me what to do, Stan.” Kyle snapped. At Kenny’s worried expression, Kyle took a deep breath and tried again. “Okay, sorry. I didn’t mean - !”

In a blink, Kenny was up and by his side. Guilt made Kyle’s heart heavy. 

Stan sighed. _“Okay, whatever. You are both invited here tonight.”_ A loud crash stabbed through Kyle’s eardrum. _“Fuck. Dad! I am on the phone! Oh, man… I won’t live through the day. Can we grab a coffee or something?”_

“What is going on, Stan?”

_“Dad has taken out his junior chemistry kit. Please, get me out of here. Let’s go to Tweek’s.” _Another explosion reached Kyle’s ear and left him almost deaf. _“Or I’ll die here.”_

“Ok, we’ll be at Tweek Bros. in a sec.”

Kyle ended the call just in time to catch Stan asking _“We?”_ in a panicked voice. 

Placing the phone next to his unfinished pancakes, Kyle felt a hand find its way to his shoulder. Without thinking, he reached up and intertwined their fingers together. 

“Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, Stan just wanted to tell me that his mom invited us to dinner tonight. Your parents are coming too, by the way.”

Kenny’s hand relaxed in his hold. “And here I thought something awful had happened.”

“Not yet.” At Kenny’s quizzical expression, Kyle continued. “His dad might blow the place up before we get there.”

“Jeez. He’s tinkering with the chemistry kit again?”

Kyle snorted. “Apparently.”

“Poor Stan.”

“He’s waiting for us at the coffeehouse.”

Kenny furrowed his eyebrows, but didn’t raise any objection. Too conflicted to think too much of the apprehension flashing across his boyfriends face, Kyle started clearing up the table. 

Kenny chuckled behind him. “You look so much like your mom right now.”

Kyle frowned. “Shut up and help me out.”

Kenny rolled his eyes, but did as told without another word of protest. “Yessir.”

***

Stan was waiting for them in front of Tweek Bros. Coffeehouse, clearly agitated. Glancing left and right fretfully, he shuffled his feet and wrung his hands, as if feeling cold despite his thick gloves. Frowning, Kyle hurried to meet him. 

“Hey, Stan.” 

Hands deep in the pockets of his parka, Kenny hovered behind, nodding when Stan’s eyes met his. Kyle’s frown only grew deeper at that. “Kenny, what the hell are you waiting for?”

“You’re so bossy,” Kenny muttered but complied anyway. 

“Hey, Kenny,” Stan said, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. Rolling his eyes, Kyle elbowed Stan in the stomach. “Hey, Kenny!” Stan exclaimed, adding a big smile to his greeting this time. 

“Stan, are you okay?” Kenny said. “You look constipated.”

“I’m good!” Stan shrieked. Kyle elbowed him again. “I’m good,” he repeated, a notch quieter. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah…” 

Quickly, Kyle shifted his gaze from one to the other. He could understand Stan’s agitation. He was in the presence of a potential werewolf, after all. His eyes went wide in obvious fear whenever Kenny took a step closer. Kyle was trying hard not to think about the _Kenny-is-a-werewolf_ theory, but he could understand Stan’s feelings. Then again… Kenny had no idea about all that, so why was he acting weird? 

“So….” Stan scratched his head through the pompom hat. “Should we go inside? My ass is going to fall off from the cold.”

Silence fell over them. 

Stunned at the lack of puns following Stan’s comment, Kyle blinked repeatedly. Kenny let his gaze wander around and fidgeted. Stan looked up at a bird flying above them. 

“What the fuck.” 

Kenny’s gaze snapped to Kyle’s at that. “Uh…” Stan bit his bottom lip. 

And finally, it clicked. The last time the three of them had a normal conversation together was way before the discovery of Cartman’s body. After that, they had only bumped into each other during two funeral services, which didn’t leave much room for casual chit-chats. Thanks to Kyle, Stan knew things Kenny didn’t. Kenny was not aware of just how much Stan knew, and Kyle had never told him he had spilled the beans about their relationship. 

Fuck. They were acting weird for two completely different reasons. If Kyle didn’t solve the problem right right away, Stan would inadvertently let Kyle’s suspicions slip about who the werewolf was, whilst Kenny was just worried about Stan’s reaction to his newly found relationship with Kyle! Damn. He hadn’t thought about this. Kyle had to act fast!

“Kenny, Stan knows.” 

Kenny’s eyes flickered over to Stan, his whole body tense. Stan looked like a deer caught in headlights. 

Damn. That came out wrong. 

Kyle elbowed Stan again - harder this time - hoping his friend would get what he was hinting at. “And he has no problem with it…_ right, Stan?_” Hissing the other’s name, Kyle arched his eyebrows eloquently. 

“I - !” Dumbfounded, Stan stared at Kyle. Kenny looked a little bit hurt by Stan’s reaction. “Of course!” Stan rushed to say, raising his hands in defense. “I don’t have any problem with you being - !”

“My boyfriend,” Kyle interrupted him. 

Stan oh-ed. Understanding flashed across his face, ironing out the wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Yeah.” He gave Kyle a brief glance before reverting his attention to Kenny. “No problem at all. Nope. Although calling Kenny your boyfriend… still sounds… _weird_.”

The blonde’s shoulders slumped. The relief on Kenny’s face sent a warm wave through Kyle’s body. He felt his lips twist unwillingly into a sincere smile, which Kenny instantly reciprocated. Their eyes locked onto each other and held them steady, unable to drift apart. 

“I’m okay with it,” Stan said in the meantime, tone a little less embarrassed. “As long as you stop making bedroom eyes at each other, I’ll be fine. Stop that, at least for today. I’m serious. I mean, this is the first time I’m seeing you two together and Kyle’s lovestruck expression is freaking me out.”

“Hey!” Kyle objected. 

Kenny snorted. “What can I say?” He flashed his most charming smile at them both. “I’m irresistible. Dare I say... sexy as fuck?” He winked at Kyle. 

“Dude.” Stan quirked his lip in disgust. 

“You’re hardly that handsome, Kenny.” Kyle pouted. 

“That’s not what you said last night.”

“_Dude!_” Stan looked at Kyle in surprise. 

“I didn’t say anything of the sort last night!”

Kenny shrugged. “Yeah, there was not much speaking involved last night, actually - just a lot of panting.”

“Dude…” Stan squeezed his eyes shut and pinched his nose. 

Kyle groaned. “He’s messing with you.”

Distrustful, Stan glanced at Kenny. The blonde grinned back widely. 

Kyle let out a sigh of frustration. “I need coffee,” he said, lifting his hand to push the coffeehouse’s door open. 

“I need to forget that this conversation ever happened,” Stan muttered next to him while massaging his temples. 

“And I need to go to work.” 

Kyle’s hand stopped mid-air while Stan arched an eyebrow at Kenny. The blonde smiled apologetically. 

“Shitty Wok does not close for New Year’s Day,” Kenny explained. “And I’m already late as it is.”

“Oh.” 

To say Kyle was disappointed would be an understatement. Stan’s eyes flickered between the two of them, and the expression flashing across his face made Kyle feel even worse. If only the supernatural didn’t exist. If only Cartman was still alive. If only Ike was still here… if only Kenny wasn’t keeping secrets from him. 

“Okay,” Kyle said, voice hardly above a whisper.

Slowly, Kenny walked towards him and Kyle stepped right into Kenny’s personal bubble without thinking. Once again, Kyle couldn’t help but feel like he belonged there. The blonde’s scent made him lighthearted, and he was thankful for Kenny’s arms slithering around his waist, keeping him grounded. 

“See you at Stan’s then.” Kyle pressed his forehead against Kenny’s. 

“See you tonight,” Kenny whispered against his mouth before pressing a kiss to Kyle’s lips. 

_“God.”_

Quickly breaking their embrace, Kenny and Kyle turned around to see Stan massaging his temples. 

“I don’t think I will get used to this anytime soon,” Stan said, pressing his hands over his eyes. 

“You said no bedroom eyes, Stan. You didn’t say anything about kissing,” Kenny said, matter-of-fact, and looked at Kyle for confirmation. “Did he?”

“Nope, he did not.”

“Exactly.”

“I swear I will write a list next time! Man! This is worse than _P.S.: I love you._”

“Oh, do grow up, Stan.” Kyle rolled his eyes. 

“You watched that movie, Stan?” Kenny grinned. His lopsided smile sent a wave of warmth through Kyle’s chest and a flush crawling up Stan’s cheeks. 

“It was Wendy’s idea!”

“We all know Wendy loathes rom coms,” Kenny said, grin widening. “See you later then, guys. And Kyle, don’t forget to pick the worst romance movie for Stan tonight.” 

“Will do.” 

“I hate you both.”

Kenny laughed. Waving him off, Kyle didn’t take his eyes off the blonde until he disappeared around the corner.

“I don’t know, Kyle,” Stan said, breaking the silence. “I really think we should forget about the plan. If Kenny really is the werewolf - !”

“I’ve heard that before.” Kyle cut him off. Shooting him an angry glare, he made a beeline towards the first free table at Tweek Bros while Stan followed, sighing in resignation. 

They didn’t talk about Kenny at all for the rest of the morning, diverting their conversations to far lighter topics. Once again, Kyle could momentarily forget all about his plan for that evening. He even treated himself to a slice of apple pie. It was no match for his mom’s recipe, however, and he loudly complained about it with each bite. Perhaps it was Kyle’s foul mood that made Stan suggest they spent the rest of the day at the arcade. It was not a bad idea, and Kyle gladly agreed to it. 

Just as they were heading outside, the bell above the door chimed. Absentmindedly, Kyle looked up - and almost stumbled backwards at the sight of Carol and Karen. A tsunami of emotions crashed down on him - just like when he visited Kevin in prison. His gaze locked with Carol’s. His heart beat a million miles per hour. 

“Hey, Mrs. McCormick,” Stan said. “Hey, Karen.” 

Kyle was surprised at his nonchalance. Couldn’t Stan feel the electricity crackling in the air? The forceful draw, coming from Carol? Kyle couldn’t think about anything else anymore. He stared at her, feeling like Icarus when his wings started melting. Unable to move on. And falling to his death. 

“Hi, Stan. Hi, Kyle.” Karen’s voice pulled Kyle back to reality. She flashed a soft smile at him, one which soon disappeared under the redhead’s stunned gaze. Kyle took a hesitant step forward, and Karen's big, azure eyes widened in fear. 

_“You should see her eyes.”_

Ike’s words suddenly echoed through Kyle’s mind and sent a pang to his already aching heart. He couldn’t stop staring at her, amazed by her demeanor – so different from the last time Kyle saw her. She had been silent during the funeral, and Kyle had been so out of it that it had been easy to overlook her presence completely. In that moment, however, Kyle’s attention was focused on her entirely, on those eyes Ike had loved so. Kenny’s eyes. Apparently, Kyle and Ike had more things in common than he had assumed…

But when Kyle opened his mouth to tell her so, Karen shared a brief glance with her mother, hiding those eyes from him. 

“Oh, Carol!” Richard Tweek’s voice made them all jolt in surprise. “It’s been a long time! You look fresh as a freshly plucked Arabica coffee bean. How’s Stuart? Still set on drinking that liquefied sludge that you peasants call instant coffee?”

“Err...” Carol tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. “It’s nice to see you too, Richard. We are... hmm...” She exchanged a quick look with her daughter. 

The longer he watched Mr. Tweek, the more Kyle found his perception of the man changing. He had always seen him as an ‘okay’ man - someone neither particularly worthy of attention, nor someone you would have a reason to openly hate. Despite his distant demeanor, similar to an actor advertising a product, he had always been kind to his customers. With Carol and Karen, he was anything but. It was the first time Kyle had seen such a forced smile on Mr. Tweek’s round face. The way he spoke to the McCormicks reeked of falsity and disrespect. 

Kyle frowned. A strange silence had fallen over the coffeehouse. Discreetly or not, the patrons had all turned to look their way. 

“Actually, I need to talk to you about something very important. Can we go somewhere private?” Carol finally asked, blatantly ignoring the disapproving looks a group of old ladies were throwing her way. 

“Oh.” Richard wrung his hands nervously. “Oh, I see… but before you say anything more, I feel the need to remind you we are both happily married.”

A middle-aged man sitting close to the door snorted into his drink. 

“Mom, it’s hopeless,” Karen whispered, tugging at Carol’s stained shirt. “Let’s just leave.”

“It’s really inappropriate to talk about this in front of your daughter,” Richard said, shaking his head disapprovingly. “Right, sweetie?” he asked, flashing a big grin at Karen, who flinched. 

A myriad of expressions flashed across Carol’s face. She frowned, grimaced, face growing darker with anger and determination. “No, Richard, you’ve got it all wrong. I just wanted to ask if you had any jobs for me.”

Loud mutters spread through the coffeehouse like wildfire, and Karen’s face flushed as red as her mom’s hair. Kyle and Stan shared a confused glance. 

“She’s been sacked again,” someone whispered. 

“I bet her husband’s back in rehab.” 

“Oh, they should be ashamed to show their faces in public, after that stunt their eldest son pulled - !”

Kyle turned his attention back on Richard. He looked sheepish, but didn’t seem inclined to put an end to all that talking. Carol, on the other hand, kept her head high and started right through him. 

“I’d need to ask my wife...” Richard finally uttered. “Err... since we’ve already got Kelly to help us...” He glanced around for help. All patrons returned to their cups of coffee. 

“I don’t mind!” Kelly’s voice broke the sudden, awkward silence. “I’d actually like some help and - !”

“Oh, you are doing amazing on your own. Don’t worry about it.” Richard cut in. “Carol, seriously, l’d need to talk it over with my wife first.”

“No worries. You’ve made yourself clear,” Carol said. “My presence would be bad for business. God knows we bring bad luck. I apologize for getting your carpet dirty, by the way.” She braced both hands on Karen’s shoulders and pushed her towards the door.

“You know that you are welcome here anytime.” 

Rolling her eyes, Carol left, dragging Karen along with her. 

“Hey! You can’t let the fucker off the hook like this!” Kyle shouted, following them outside with Stan in tow. “That was unfair! He treated you like dirt and I can’t believe the things those bastards said - !”

At the sight of Karen’s wet eyes, Kyle swallowed his tongue. 

“Don’t worry about it, Kyle, we’re used to it.” Smiling at him gently, Carol gave Karen’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze. The young girl nodded and quickly wiped her eyes to show Kyle her bravest face. 

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Karen said with a quivering smile. “We’ll have luck somewhere else.”

It was in that moment it dawned on him just how much the McCormicks struggled to fit in at South Park. Mind engulfed in a frenzy of justice, he started shaking with anger – which soon dissolved into guilt and self-loathing. Kyle wasn’t any better than those old ladies in the coffeehouse. He was ready to go behind the McCormick’s backs – ready to further soil their reputation in the name of justice. At the realization, he had to stop and take a deep breath. 

Stuart’s picture flashed through his mind. Sandra, found dead with a bullet in her head. Stan’s grandfather, accused of murder and then cleared. The townspeople’s efforts to keep the McCormicks out of their business, to let them live in the middle of the woods that was said to be infested by spectres and monsters. Stuart’s alcoholism. Kevin’s imprisonment. Carol’s desperation. Kenny’s happiness at being able to have a hot bath at Token’s. Karen’s eyes. 

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do anymore. Should he defend his town from a possible monster? Or defend the McCormicks from South Park?

But there was the matter of Ike’s death. And Butters’. And Cartman’s. He couldn’t let those go. 

Maybe if the McCormicks had never existed... 

“I don’t understand,” Kyle whispered, lifting his gaze towards Carol. “Why do you let them treat you this way? Why do you want to keep living in South Park?” 

The magnetic pull he had felt moments before came back stronger. Kyle felt tiny under Carol’s softening expression. 

“We belong here.” she said, circling Karen to get closer to him. Her hand found Kyle’s cheek and lingered for a moment longer than necessary. A shiver ran down Kyle’s spine. Squeezing his eyes shut, he let darkness engulf him. A vision flashed through his mind’s eye – Stuart lying dead in a puddle of blood. It lasted but an instant, but Start’s unusually jovial face was now forever imprinted into Kyle’s brain.

“We should go now,” Carol said. “But we’ll see each other tonight.”

“I’m sorry I can’t make it today, Stan,” Karen added, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. “I’ve already promised Tricia.”

“It’s fine.” 

Kyle closed his eyes. He was on the verge of fainting. 

“See you then...”

Only when their footsteps faded into the distance did Kyle feel better. Stan shot him a worried look, but Kyle shook his head. There was nothing wrong with him. 

Once again, he wondered if he should drop it. 

But the thought of Ike disappearing in a pool of blood was just too much to bear. 

“Kyle?” 

“Don’t give me that look, Stan. I know. But I need to do this.”

*** 

Stan called to tell the McCormicks were there. Kyle probably had an hour before Kenny grew restless in his unexplained absence. Not to mention the fact Karen could decide to go home earlier than planned. 

He _had_to act fast. 

And so, he made his way to the woods armed with nothing but a flashlight. 

Save from the occasional hooting and the sound of branches swaying in the night breeze, the woods surrounding the McCormick household were deathly silent. Kyle glanced around him and flashed his torch over the undergrowth when an odd rustle reached his ears. But there was nothing lurking in the darkness.

“Calm down.” His voice ricocheted across the vastness. Taking a big breath, he hurried towards the front door. “Calm down.” 

The wind picked up in strength, the treetops trashing about as if shaken by nervous laughter. A loud crack, like split wood, followed Kyle’s steps. He started running. His hand reached for the doorknob – his thoughts were jumbled. He turned around and faced the darkness, putting on a brave front whilst his heart galloped madly in his chest. Nothing. The scent of snow was heavy in the air. The branches rustled. It was dark and cold, and Kyle was sweating. 

He slapped his hand against the door, wanting nothing more than to get in and put a wall between himself and the woods. Something chirped. Spiders crawled idly next to the doorknob. Kyle’s bravado left him. He pushed the door open, knowing deep down inside there was no way the McCormicks hadn’t locked it on their way out. A soft creaking proved him wrong. The door opened slowly, Kyle’s flashlight flickering over the dirty floorboards. 

He had dropped by the McCormicks’ a billion times, but not once had Kenny’s house ever felt so alienated from the rest of the world. Stepping inside, Kyle had the vague, ridiculous suspicion he was entering another dimension. Every nook seemed to hide terrible secrets. He expected things to crawl out from under the furniture. He expected the shabby plushie on the old couch to come to life and laugh in his face. Nothing happened. Kenny’s lingering scent gave Kyle a little bit of courage. 

With a deep sigh, Kyle pushed forwards. The house he was breaking into was just a normal house. There were family pictures on the wall, just as the Broflovskis’. A TV set. A buzzing fridge in the kitchen. An unwashed cup on the coffee table, similar to the one Gerald used. Old fashion magazines, the same kind Sheila liked to read. The old push-button telephone. And dust. A lot of it. Cobwebs. A baseball mitt under the couch. Kyle moved to the bedrooms. An unmade double bed. Carol’s abandoned shirt on a chair. Cheap perfume. Samples of face creams. Kyle recognized Kevin and Karen’s bedroom, then Kenny’s. School books. Dirty shoes. A picture of Kenny, Kyle, Stan and Cartman laughing, pinned to the headboard. 

A picture of Kyle right under it, closer to the pillow. 

His heart missed a beat. Kyle had no recollection of that picture. It must have been taken three years ago, because Kyle recognized the book he was reading as the one they used in Chemistry class. He had no idea who had taken it, or why. He didn’t remember Kenny ever owning a Polaroid camera, since the cartridges were extremely expensive. Cartman had one, though, during his aesthetic photography phase, when he was trying to sell incredibly ugly pictures to hipsters. Kyle hadn’t noticed Cartman taking a picture of him while he was studying. He wondered how Kenny got it and how long it’s been pinned on his headrest. He had never stayed in Kenny’s bedroom for more than a couple of seconds, so he had never noticed it. 

His throat went dry. Slowly, Kyle stepped backwards, suddenly very aware of how out-of-place his presence in this house was. He was wrong. The McCormicks had nothing to do with the werewolf. Everything had been a coincidence. The eyes had deceived him. Kenny would have never hurt him that way. Kyle had to start his investigations anew, and this time, Kenny wouldn’t be a prime suspect. Because Kenny couldn’t be a monster. A monster didn’t treasure a picture so lovingly. 

And Kyle would never love a monster, a killer. Thus, Kenny was no monster, no killer. 

He quickly moved towards the front door, thoughts already shifting to joining the Marshes just in time for dessert. Suddenly, he froze in his tracks. Kyle pointed the flashlight at the door leading to the basement. The air grew thicker. His legs started moving on their own accord – he felt lightheaded but heavy, like a soulless body. Stepping downstairs carefully, Kyle flashed the torch around in search of the switch. 

The lights flickered on. 

Kyle couldn’t breathe. Hands shaking, his eyes wandered over the claw marks on the wall and the unmistakable traces of blood on the floor. On the last step, Kyle almost slipped over some chains. Blood roared through his eardrums. His vision narrowed. Someone was pressing down on his chest and laughing in his face. 

“This can’t be.” He struggled to get the words out. He barely heard them, as if swimming underwater. 

Whatever happened in the basement had been gory. An animal had tried to claw their way out; the little furniture was scattered over the floor in a million pieces. Slowly, Kyle walked towards one of the bloody walls and reached towards it. Someone had clearly tried wiping the blood off with bleach, but the stains remained. His fingers caressed a small, dark spot. 

The room brightened, as if struck by lightning. And Kyle saw Kenny standing in front of him, his scars blinding under the moonlight. Eyes wide and breath short, the blonde looked right through him. Strangely enough, some of the scars Kyle had noticed on Kenny’s body before - like the one on his temple - were missing completely, but most of them were still there. As Kyle tried to make sense of what he was seeing, the room grew brighter and brighter - until the bulb shattered above his head, enveloping him in darkness once more. The vision had lasted but an instant, but Kyle knew that what he saw was no coincidence. 

He was _right_. The McCormicks had _everything_ to do with the werewolf. _Nothing_ was a coincidence. The eyes had not deceived him. Kenny had hurt him. Kenny killed Cartman and Ike. Kenny was a monster.

And Kyle has fallen in love with a monster, a killer. 

***

Kyle walked through the empty town with tears streaming down his face. Glancing around to make sure he was alone, he sniffled and wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. There was no stopping the flood of silent tears. He tried to harden his heart, but failed. His body rebelled against him. Self-loathing flooded him, an anger so hot and fiery it burned him from the inside-out. 

The road ahead of him seemed endless. It took him too long to get home. But when his house appeared in the distance, Kyle wanted nothing more than to turn on his heels and disappear into the woods again. His fists yearned for a hard surface to hit; his body craved for a soft embrace to disappear into. 

It was in that moment that he noticed the light coming through the kitchen window. Kyle picked up the pace until he was running as fast he could. His fingers shook as he fumbled for his keys and slammed the door open. His mom appeared in the hallway. 

“Oh, Kyle, where have you been?” Sheila asked, walking towards him. “I decided to come home earlier than planned. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you alone and - ! Oh, my! Are you crying?”

“Mom?”

Sheila’s strong arms encircled Kyle’s shoulders immediately, pulling him closer. “Oh, I told Leah leaving you behind was a bad idea! What happened, honey? What’s wrong?”

Kyle buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. He wished he could stop being such a crybaby for once and face reality with a stoic face. Just like he used to do before Cartman died. 

“Oh, my,” Sheila repeated like a mantra. “Are you hurt? What happened?! I’m getting worried!”

“Mom... mom, I’ve been stupid.” Kyle muttered Kenny’s name against her skin, but Sheila didn’t seem to hear him. 

“What happened, Bubbie?” 

“I should have gone to college. You were so fucking right! I shouldn’t have taken a Sabbatical. I’ve acted like a damn fool!” 

Sheila cradled him in her arms in silence, which meant Kyle had her whole attention. He bit his lip, debating whether to tell her the truth or not. It would make him feel better, for sure - but he hesitated.

“Do you want to know why I decided to stay in South Park?”

Sighing, Sheila caressed Kyle’s hair. “Is it because of Cartman?”

“Cartman was… my friend.” Kyle sniffled. “But that’s not it.” 

“Hmm.”

“I’m in love.” It pained him to say it out loud, but the anger that came alongside it didn’t make the statement any less true. “This guy… I loved him, mom. I… still do.” 

Sheila tensed, and Kyle braced himself for the disgust and pity that would soon follow. Nothing happened for a couple of seconds. But then, Sheila hugged him unexpectedly tighter and caressed his temples lovingly. 

“_Ssh_, it’s alright.”

“I wanted to stay here with him.” Kyle swallowed. “But he… he…” Whatever he wanted to say next stuck to his throat and a sob escaped his lips instead. 

“Bubbie, I know you’re hurting right now,” she whispered in his ear gently. Her hands didn’t stop stroking his head. “But you won’t always feel this way, I promise.” Although he didn’t believe her at all, Kyle nodded against her shoulder. 

“I will go to college. I _have_ to leave and put as much distance as I can between us. I…!”

“You don’t need to think about that, right now,” Sheila shushed him and wiped a tear from his eye tenderly. “You’re allowed to be sad today.”

Kyle nodded and let his mom lull him just a little longer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you @LWTIS for being an amazing beta. <3<3<3 This story would be nothing without your help!!  
And thank you, my amazing readers, for your support, for your comments and your kudos! You make my days ever the brighter!


	14. Full moon

The worst thing was how relieved Kenny sounded on the phone. 

“So you’re alright?”

“Yeah, mom came back home earlier than planned and… well… I was surprised and totally forgot about dinner.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it was humiliating nonetheless, justifying himself to someone who had never been entirely truthful with him - ever. Kenny’s relief made him feel guilty when it shouldn’t have, because the one who should be apologizing for everything they’ve been through was Kenny – not Kyle. Had the blonde been apathetic about Kyle’s whereabouts, lying to him would have been much easier. It wouldn’t have felt like an apology at all. 

Kyle hated lying to Kenny, the monster, the killer. 

“Understandable.”

A weight formed in the pit of his stomach at that simple word. An evil voice in the back of his head prodded Kyle to hate the boy on the other end. It was an unbearable weight that dragged him down to the bottom of self-deprecation and despair. He should hate Kenny. There were a lot of things Kyle should have done. He should have seen through the lies, just like Cartman did. He should have read the clues scattered at his feet. He should have given a name to those silver scars decorating Kenny’s face. He should have _known_. Kyle was smarter than Cartman. But blind. Blind to the supernatural and blind to everything that didn’t follow strict logic. 

And love had only made him blinder. 

Kyle loved Kenny, the monster, the killer. 

Kyle hated love with a passion. 

More than love, Kyle hated his own vulnerable human nature - his inability to see past appearances and his inability to accept that what he thought was perfect was, in fact, disgraceful and rotten. Because despite the undeniable clues and the crystal-clear facts he was holding in his shaking hands, Kyle still believed Kenny was innocent. 

Kyle always thought himself above feelings. He prided himself on his sterile logic, uncorrupted by bias and sympathy. He thought he was an objective person – until a pair of azure eyes started looking at him differently and proved him wrong. He was still a victim to his own feelings. Kyle was prone to human error. 

He’d lost his way the moment he stepped over the boundary between friendship and danger. A kiss ignited his fall and set fire to his sanity. 

“Stan just asked if you wanted to drop by with your mom…”

Kyle squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sure the food is tasty, but…”

“All food is tasty when you’re hungry.”

Was that meant to be a joke? Kyle could feel Kenny’s smile caressing the handset of the phone. He could picture him so perfectly, as if he were standing right next to him. His voice soothed his nerves. It was intimate. Dangerously so.

It made him want to drop the phone so badly, and run to Stan’s house to meet him. 

“I’d rather stay at home with mom.” 

“Mama’s boy.”

The words _‘don’t tease’_ never made it out of his mouth. Kyle gritted his teeth and took a step backwards, as if to put some distance between himself and the imaginary Kenny next to him. 

“I’ll tell Stan you’re not gonna make it.”

“I’ll get in touch with you guys tomorrow.”

“…okay then.”

Kenny’s worried pause was like a dagger to the heart. 

“Okay then.”

Hanging up, Kyle slid down the wall. He punched his thighs, almost giving himself a cramp. Why? Why did he feel so guilty for getting a monster worried? A killer. Ike’s killer. Butters’ indirect murderer. Cartman’s executioner. Kyle should have seen it the day Kenny confronted him about Ike’s relationship with Karen. He should have known from Kenny’s feral behaviour. It explained Ike’s fear perfectly. Maybe Kyle should have been more suspicious of Kenny's willingness to break into Cartman’s house. Kyle shouldn’t have let him search the basement. How much evidence had Kenny destroyed before Kyle investigated the crime scene himself? Or maybe Kyle’s alarms should have already started ringing when Butters came to find him after Cartman’s funeral. 

Kyle bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Butters. Silly Butters. He had waited until the end of the funeral to talk to him, until Kyle was completely alone. When Kenny was not there.

_“Last time when you came by with Kenny…”_

Butters’ words finally acquired meaning. Butters had known – or at least suspected – that Kenny was a werewolf. Kyle was the only one who hated Cartman enough to believe that his death was not accidental. Kyle had always been someone who sought a second meaning to everything Cartman did, and that didn’t exclude his death. Butters knew firsthand that if you didn’t care about a person, you would never spend much time or energy thinking about their thoughts and actions. And Kyle cared about Cartman, as much as he pained to admit it. That was why Kyle was Butters’ safest bet. Kyle would and could find out who Cartman’s murderer was. Because he cared, Kyle could help him.

Indeed, Kyle’s attention had piqued at Butters’ warning. But as much as Kyle cared about Cartman, Kyle hadn’t felt any obligation to help _Butters_ out. Kyle and Butters weren’t friends. Kyle didn’t care about what Butters did or thought. So he’d let that opportunity slip through his fingers, resulting in Butters’ death. 

That meant that Butters’ death was on Kyle’s hands, wasn’t it? Just like Ike’s. 

If he had just listened to reason, Kyle would have helped Butters out. Kevin would have never been forced to kill. He wouldn’t be behind bars. Karen would still be happy. With Stan’s help - and maybe Ike’s - Kyle and Butters would have exposed Kenny before he became dangerous. And then what? 

Kyle would have never fallen in love with him. Kyle would have never been brought to his knees by a pair of azure eyes. Love wouldn’t have made him blinder. 

Love was such a dangerous emotion. It made Cartman’s mom sacrifice herself, even when the chance of saving Eric was scarce. It made Butters go on a quest of his own to serve justice for his friend’s murder. It made Kevin grab a baseball bat and kill an innocent teenager. It made Ike follow up on a lead to help his brother out. Honestly, love made them all honorable. Heroic, even. 

For Kyle, love awakened the Death Bringer inside him. 

Kyle was a monster too.

He was dangerous. 

Fists tight, a plan started forming in Kyle’s head. It was the most insane plan ever conceived, but it was the kind that would grant Kyle the closure he so desperately needed. There was no turning back now. When this was all over, Kyle could finally rest. Unless he wanted a black hole in the place of his heart for the rest of his days, Kyle had to do it.

He had to confront Kenny, the werewolf. 

***

To say that Stan was not happy about Kyle’s plan would be an understatement. Stan’s eyes were close to popping out of his skull. Skin a greyish hue, Stan was on the verge of fainting. If Kyle’s determination hadn’t been stronger than his guilt, he would have felt bad about almost giving his friend a stroke. 

It was in that moment that he realized just what Stan was going through, _for him_. His friend had been catapulted into the supernatural without warning, right after Cartman’s death. Kyle got to see the werewolf with his own two eyes before he started believing. Meanwhile, Stan had to deal with the shock of Kyle disappearing into the Halloween night and barely escaping death - right after Cartman’s funeral. Stan was told there was a werewolf, that he should believe – or else. He had no time to process what was happening. Kyle shoved a gun that belonged to his uncle in his hands – who sold special weapons undercover! – and was told to keep his mouth shut. 

And Stan played along. He had taken the gun, lied to his parents and offered constant support when Kyle needed it. Then, out of the blue, Stan learned that his childhood friends Kyle and Kenny were dating and, instead of running for the hills, he stayed and offered even more support. When Kyle told him Kenny was the werewolf, Stan offered comfort along with everything else. 

Kyle didn’t deserve a super best friend like him. He loved him. 

And so, it was with great difficulty that Kyle squared his jaw and hardened his stare in the aftermath of spilling the beans about his plan. The two grey hairs Kyle spotted on his temple were a painful sight. 

“Are you insane?” 

“It’s the only way I can think of to put an end to this madness.”

“… are you _insane_?!”

“Stan.”

“You’ve completely lost it.”

“Stan.”

“You need a doctor.”

“Stan!”

“_I_ need a doctor! They are going to lock me up! I don’t want to spend the rest of my days in a straitjacket!”

“Seriously, Stan?”

“Kyle, you could get yourself _fucking killed_,” Stan hissed.

“I’m going to be fine.”

“My ass!”

“Please, trust me this once.”

“I do trust you! But right now, you’re too devastated to think straight… I mean, no offense. You stopped thinking straight ever since you started canoodling with Kenny!”

Kyle arched an eyebrow. “Canoodling?”

“I’m serious. You need to stop for a moment and _think_.” Stan groaned. “I can’t believe I’m saying this to you, but - ! Listen, _listen_. I know you’re in pain and feel betrayed right now - !”

“Stan, I really hope you’re not going to say what I think you’re going to say.”

“- but this is no reason to go and confront your werewolf boyfriend. On. A. Full. Moon.”

“I’ll be long gone before the moon rises.”

“Can’t you do it tomorrow instead?” Stan asked, hopeful. “Or never?”

“And let Kenny get away with it?!”

“Let’s pretend this never happened.”

Stan bit his lip at Kyle’s glare. A pained grimace crossed his friend’s face, and Kyle took a deep breath to calm himself. When his ragged breathing was back to normal, Kyle found the strength to talk again. 

“Full moon or not, I am going today. I don’t give a fuck. And you know what to do.”

Stan’s eyes grew dark. “Fine. I’ll wait for you here. Eight sharp.” 

Kyle smiled, but it soon vanished when Stan didn’t reciprocate.

***

He was painfully aware he was losing his mind. But that very same awareness flashed in and out of his consciousness, rendering his thoughts less salient and much more dangerous to Kyle’s own wellbeing. The grief was just too much. In order to avoid the pain and the constant twists and turns he had to deal with the last couple of months, body and mind had decided to live parallel lives without Kyle’s permission. The plan was clear in his mind, but everything else was just a thick layer of mist. Even walking, even breathing. 

Perhaps that was why Kyle didn’t notice anything amiss with the wood’s usual quietness. The crunching of the fallen branches under his feet wasn’t as loud as the white nose between his eardrums. His goal was the McCormicks’ house. There was nothing lurking in the dark, but his own demons. The sun was making its way west, but everything was still bright and lively, as if it was dawn. Despite the sun-kissed landscape, no animal poked its nose out of their lair to wish a good evening to Kyle. 

Surprisingly, when he knocked on the door, he felt extremely calm. 

Karen answered, looking right through him with her azure, sore eyes. Despite her pallid complexion, Kyle thought she looked quite well for someone who had lost her boyfriend just a month ago. Kyle resented her for it. She should have been grieving - just like he was. But Kyle shouldn’t be thinking of her, or Ike. His goal was Kenny – Karen was just white noise, just like everything else. With a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he asked:

“Is your brother home?” 

It was in that moment that Kyle realized just how heavily Karen was breathing. “Yeah, sure. He’s in his room. I’ll call him for you.” Leaving the door ajar, Karen disappeared down the hall. “_Kenny_! It’s your friend Kyle!”

Kyle took a hesitant step inside and looked around. The setting sun painted the walls in hues of orange, making everything - even the tattered sofa - look breathtaking. He stepped further into the room, his ears pricking up at the sound of quick feet echoing through the hall. By the time Kyle turned to meet the source of all the ruckus, Kenny was already pushing him towards the door.

“What are you doing here?” Kenny’s voice was calm, in contrast to the frantic way he was escorting him out of the house. Beads of sweat decorated his face - another sign he wasn’t exactly happy about Kyle impromptu visit. Letting his gaze linger on them a moment longer than strictly necessary, Kyle opened his mouth to put his plan in action. 

“I - !”

“Kyle, you know I love to have you around,” Kenny interrupted, speaking quickly and without a single break, “but not today. My parents could be back any minute now and mom is an insufferable bitch every time they come back from their little monthly jaunt. Especially when we have unexpected visitors. You’re going to get me in trouble, man.”

For the first time in his life, Kyle managed to catch the lie between Kenny’s words on his first try. Furrowing his eyebrows, he searched the blonde’s face for any sign of fear or anger - but all he got was exhaustion, easily explained by a hard day of work. Old Kyle would have believed Kenny immediately. He had always been a good actor and a good liar, after all. But this time, his acting skills were lacking. That, or Kyle’s lie-detection capabilities had sharpened drastically. 

“I didn’t know your parents left you alone regularly.”

“It’s a tradition of sorts.” Kenny scratched his head, fingers disappearing into messy blonde hair. “They say that they can’t bang properly with so many kids around, so they just… disappear somewhere and don’t come back for a couple of days. I don’t think it really benefits their relationship at all, to be honest. As I said, mom becomes even more insufferable.” Kenny’s lopsided grin did nothing to soothe Kyle’s nerves. “And when that happens, dad’s affair with heavy alcohol becomes all the more serious.”

Kyle frowned. Kenny’s words and apologetic smile seemed valid, but it sent a wave of disappointment through him just the same. Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, he was wondering how to proceed, when the unthinkable happened. The last thing he saw before nothingness engulfed him was Kenny’s face, freezing in horror. 

“Kyle?”

Kenny’s voice was an echo at the end of a long, dark tunnel. Blinking up at the falling snow, Kyle saw a hand holding a small gun flash through the white wind. Suddenly, pain propagated through his brain, starting from the nape and ending right between his eyebrows. 

He was dead.

“Kyle?”

Kyle searched for Kenny’s hand in the darkness, shivering when his fingers met cold metal instead of warm skin. He was holding the gun and pointing it somewhere in front of him. On someone’s back…? Kenny. Or not. Kyle couldn’t see through the raging wind. 

_“Kyle!?”<.em>_

__

Kyle turned around. The gun went off. He died. 

__

A pair of arms grabbed his shoulders and shook him. Excruciatingly slowly, Kyle surfaced back into consciousness, Kenny’s panicked expression taking form in bits and pieces. 

__

“What?”

__

“Oh my God!” Kenny gave him a good look-over. His whole body was shaking. “Your eyes went completely white! You looked… you look… dead! Oh, fuck! Are you going to faint?!”

__

Before Kyle could faint for real, Kenny took his hand and dragged him to the bathroom - right in the nick of time. One moment Kyle was staring at his pale reflection in the dirty mirror; the next, he was emptying his stomach’s content into the toilet. Kenny kneeled down next to him, rubbing reassuring circles on his back.

__

“This is humiliating,” Kyle mumbled when he was done. Gripping the toilet with both hands, he tried to push himself to his feet. 

__

“It’s okay, it happens to the best of us.”

__

Kenny shouldn’t have sounded so reassuring. The warmth of his hand shouldn’t have felt so good. Inelegantly, Kyle crawled over to the sink and rinsed his mouth. His nerves were playing tricks on him – he could have sworn Kenny’s reflection was the epitome of horror. But he couldn’t be. Could a werewolf be afraid for Kyle’s wellbeing? 

__

Suddenly remembering why he came in the first place, Kyle shot a nervous look towards the door, expecting Karen to appear on the doorstep. 

__

“You really should go home. Let me - !”

__

“No.” Kyle shook his head. With an enormous and terrible effort, he made it to the door. “No, I can’t leave.”

__

“This is no time for arguing! You just puked your soul out and - ! And - !” Kenny groaned loudly. His badly concealed anger gave Kyle the motivation he needed to cross the final inches separating him from the door. With a swift move, he locked it and clenched the key in his fist. 

__

_“What the fuck are you doing?!” _

__

Kenny was at his side in two strides. His hands went for the key, but Kyle quickly ducked and put as much distance between them as possible. 

__

Kenny whimpered like a wounded animal. “This is not the time, Kyle. You are sick and I - !”

__

“You what?” Kyle asked, venomous. The tone of his voice must have surprised Kenny greatly, as he took an abrupt step backwards, almost colliding with the sink. Surprise flashed across his face - then confusion. “What are you going to do, Kenny?” Frowning at Kyle’s jab, Kenny took a hesitant step closer. “Don’t get near me.”

__

The blonde halted. It took him a while to form his next sentence. “You’re drenched in sweat. We have to get you to a doctor,” he said, voice quivering with anguish. Kyle didn’t pay those words any heed. Clutching the key so hard it hurt, Kyle sat on the edge of the bathtub. When Kenny attempted to get close to him a second time, Kyle shot him the most murderous glare he could conceive. 

__

The betrayed look across Kenny’s face almost broke Kyle’s resolution. The bathtub under him, however, granted him strength to get on with it. 

__

“Did you enjoy it?”

__

Kenny’s confusion grew. “What? Seeing you throw up?”

__

“No, seeing Ike die.”

__

Kenny stared at him. Eyes wide, as if Kyle’s words had stabbed him right in the heart. “W-what are you talking about?”

__

Kyle squared his jaw. “You know very well what I am talking about.” The urge to throw up came back stronger than ever, but he did his best to keep his cool. Kenny was looking at everything but him. His bewilderment looked painfully sincere.

__

Kenny gulped. “You know I didn’t want Ike dead.”

__

“And yet, you killed him.”

__

Shock sent Kenny’s jaw hanging open. “What?”

__

“Answer my question, Kenny.” Kyle was suddenly short of breath. “Did you enjoy it?”

__

“Kyle, you’re sick.” The blonde reached towards him, but at Kyle’s glare, he let his arm fall to his side again. “Kyle, give me the key. You need a doctor.” His stern voice put an ironic smile on Kyle’s lips.

__

A cold wind loaded with snow sipped through the small grate that the McCormicks’ called a window. The sun had set.

__

“You might not have wanted Ike dead, but I’m sure the same can’t be said for Cartman. Did it feel good when you slit his throat open?”

__

“Kyle…” A flicker of understanding flickered in Kenny’s eyes, but it was still too dim to matter. “I thought you were done investigating Cartman’s death.”

__

“I discovered more that I bargained for.” Kyle dropped his gaze to the floor, but at the first sight of movement, he willed himself to stare back at Kenny’s azure eyes. 

__

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

__

“Kenny, stop.” Sweat soaked his shirt. Locks of red hair stuck to his forehead. He felt dizzy and ready to puke again. Dread had taken control of him – so much so that he wanted to scream. “Stop, okay? I know the truth.” Kenny’s eyes grew wide. “I know you’re a werewolf. I know you’re behind the animals’ attacks and Cartman’s death and _everything_. You were there at that kid’s party! People saw you, alright? You told me you were going to strangle Ike with your bare hands if he kept seeing Karen! I know, alright? You _did_ want him dead! You told me so! And Cartman knew what you were! And Butters knew it too and that’s why he tried to kill you that night! That’s how Kevin got him. Kevin was trying to… to save you. And you - ! You were there when the werewolf attacked me on Halloween. I recognized you, alright? That’s why you broke into Cartman’s house with me! You were trying to hide the evidence!”

__

“You’re not making any sense.”

__

“Kenny, Kenny, stop! Stop!” Kyle grabbed at his head. The cold key caressed his cheek, making him shiver. “Stop _lying_. This is killing me.” 

__

“Kyle - !”

__

_“Don’t come any closer!” _

__

The mirror shattered. Kenny looked at the cracks with horror. 

__

“Kyle?”

__

At Kenny’s worried tone, Kyle took a deep breath to stave off the hysteria. “I don’t care anymore.” He looked up, meeting Kenny’s bewildered gaze. “I don’t care. I hate this town. I hate everything. I have nothing else to lose. I just… I just have you. You are the only person that makes me feel alive. So, if you want, we can leave this place together, find a safe haven, whatever. We will find a way around your… your problem. But if you don’t… if you don’t want me in your life and prefer to keep this a secret forever, then just kill me when the moon’s out. Just like you did with Ike. Here, in this bathtub.”

__

The silence that fell over them when Kyle was done talking was more than simply deafening. A range of emotions flashed across Kenny’s face, so fast Kyle struggled to register them all: confusion, panic, pity, guilt, understanding and - lastly - sheer rage.

__

“Did you plan all of this?” Kenny asked through gritted teeth, making a vague gesture around the bathroom. 

__

“I hadn’t foreseen the puking part.”

__

“Do you think this is funny?” Kenny snapped. “You thought I was a werewolf, and you came here to give me an _ultimatum_? You’re really, _really_ telling me that you decided to pay a visit to a werewolf, on a full moon, to give me the chance to kill you? That you want _me_ to _kill_ you?!”

__

Kyle gulped. The fact that Kenny didn’t look at all shocked about Kyle believing in werewolves was further proof he was right. If Kenny wasn’t a werewolf, he would have laughed in his face at least, right? But here he was: taking Kyle’s words in stride and dwelling more on Kyle’s suicide mission rather than the existence of supernatural creatures. 

__

“So, I was right. You _are_ a werewolf.”

__

_“What the fuck, Kyle!”_ Kenny exclaimed. “I thought you didn’t even believe in this stuff!”

__

“I’ve seen the werewolf.” Kyle clenched his jaw. “You almost killed me that night. And I started investigating. There’s this book - !”

__

“I don’t care what you found out,” Kenny interrupted him. “What I am hearing is that you are making the same mistake that Cartman and Butters did - but instead of wanting me dead or blackmailing me as _they_ did, you want me to abandon my family and this town, or kill you instead!”

__

Kenny’s words were like a bucket of cold water dumped on his head. “The same mistake?”

__

The blonde grimaced and shook his head. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Fuck, fuck!” He punched the sink and stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror, eyes flaring. “I failed. I’m a failure.” With that said, Kenny let out a sigh, anger quickly replaced by guilt. “I tried to save Ike, Kyle. Believe me.”

__

“By ripping his heart out? Like you did with Cartman and his mom? And all those animals?”

__

“I had to do that,” Kenny said. “If you learned a thing about werewolves…”

__

“By the way, Kenny,” Kyle snapped, gaining back the control over his rage, “were you planning to tell me you were a werewolf anytime soon?”

__

Kenny’s mouth was a thin line. “I did try to tell you who I was a lot of times. But you never remember.”

__

“What?” Kyle sprang to his feet. “Do you think I wouldn’t remember you telling me you turn into a serial killer every full moon?”

__

“Werewolves are not serial killers,” Kenny said, suddenly on the defensive. “They don’t - !”

__

“Spare me that, alright?” Kyle pointed the key at him accusingly. “I can’t believe you have the balls to keep lying to me like this. To think I fell in love with someone like you!”

__

Kenny’s eyes turned ridiculously large. Kyle bit his lip and collapsed back down again, suddenly weak. 

__

“I will never forgive you, Kenny. I can’t.”

__

“And I will never forgive you for believing I could _ever_ hurt you.”

__

Kyle raised his gaze to him. A silent moment passed between them, loaded with words neither of them could translate. A greyish cloud crossed the little bathroom window and disappeared, allowing the moon’s glow to slither through and pool over the floor. Before Kyle’s eyes, Kenny’s faint scars flashed in silver tones.

__

“Kenny?” Kyle asked, uncertain. Panic chocking his voice, he shot up and took two hesitant steps towards his boyfriend. The blonde’s face was stricken with terror. 

__

“Fuck!” Kenny’s gaze flew to the moon peeking through the window, then down at Kyle’s hands. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” 

__

Kyle didn’t have the time to react as Kenny grabbed his hand and forced his clenched fist open to get the key. He let out a half-hearted _hey_ of protest, but his body was too weak to stop Kenny. The blonde was shaking so violently, he dropped the key twice before finally managing to slide it into the lock. 

__

“She should have been in the basement already!” Kenny hissed between trembling lips. “Fuck! I screwed up so bad!”

__

Kyle furrowed his sweaty brows. He could hardly stand on his feet. “What?”

__

“There’s no time for explanations! I’ve got to get - !”

__

As if on cue, a piercing howl ripped through the darkness, sending cold shivers down Kyle’s back. He searched Kenny’s eyes, but all he saw was fear. 

__

“It’s Karen. I’ve got to get to her. And you are going to stay here. Safe. You hear me?”

__

The door clicked open, and Kenny stormed out before Kyle had a chance to complain. His knees buckled under his weight as visions of a gun firing into someone’s back flashed through his mind again. He grasped the wall for support, the need to scream growing stronger. Kenny was going to die. He was going to die, and it was all going to be Kyle’s fault! He couldn’t lose him. Damn. Damn. _Damn_. The thought of living a life without Kenny destroyed him. He straightened up, newly determined. He was going to save him, even if it was the last thing he did!

__

With that in mind, he bolted out after Kenny.

__

The wind raged and trashed the branches. Critters dashed through the clearing in search of a hiding place. A wolf howled. The moon shone bright. Kyle caught a glimpse of Kenny through the undergrowth. He ran after him. 

__

The trees grew thicker and thicker around him. Snow started falling. 

__

Kyle’s heart was pounding. The howling grew closer. 

__

“Kyle! I told you to stay safe!” Kenny’s angry voice vanished in the wind.

__

Fangs flashed under the moonlight. Kyle stared, fascinated, and didn’t put up a fight when Kenny pushed him away from them.

__

Azure eyes pierced right through him.

__

Unrecognizing. 

__

Lethal. 

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, A BIG THANK YOU to @LWTIS for being such an awesome beta!  
And thank YOU, my wonderful readers, for all your support. <3


	15. So long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I should apologize in advance for anything :'D I'll leave that to your judgment. For now, let me apologize for this chapter being just a tad bit too long in comparison to the others. lol

It was cold, terribly so. Snow was falling hard. White tornadoes, spun by the wind, crashed against the groaning trees. Kyle was sweating. Trying hard to keep his eyes open against the raging wind, he stared at the creature flashing his - no, _her_ \- teeth at the bright full moon. 

Karen didn’t show any signs of recognition. She growled and dug her claws into the dirt, her dark coat both silky and coarse. Kyle could do nothing but stare at her, fascinated – just like the first time they’d met. Kenny was right between them, shielding Kyle with his whole body, arms raised in a calming gesture. 

“It’s alright, he’s not gonna hurt you. He’s not gonna hurt you, it’s alright,” he chanted repeatedly, voice barely audible over the wind. The werewolf didn’t seem to understand him. Eyes darting left and right, Karen squirmed and growled. She curled into herself, a movement that made her look even more intimidating. A shiver crossed her arched back. She looked ready to strike. 

And yet, she didn’t. 

As if spellbound, she stayed right where she was, pinned into place by Kenny’s gaze. 

“Kyle,” he said softly, not turning to face him, “back away slowly and go home.” 

“But - !” 

“Go. Home.” 

Kyle gulped. Sweat rolled down his temple. He was shivering. His legs felt like timber, planted deep in the ground. The lines on Kenny’s nape glowed brightly under the moonlight. His blonde hair fluttered madly in the wind. The scene imprinted itself profoundly into Kyle’s mind and gave him the unexpected courage to move. 

He took a step backwards, then another, perfectly aware that Karen wasn’t taking her eyes off him. The distance between Kenny and him grew bigger and bigger. The urge to puke became unbearable, but he knew he could hold it in a little longer. The further he walked, the more relaxed the werewolf seemed. 

And then they heard it. 

The sound of boots stomping on fallen branches drowned out the wind’s howling. Kyle whipped around, cursing loudly when the snow blinded him. Despite the darkness veiling the innermost parts of the woods, Kyle could make out a redheaded man heading towards them. 

_“Over there! Over there!”_

“Step back, son! This is dangerous!”

“Kyle! Kyle!”

Kyle recognized the voice calling for him. Heart pounding, he whipped his arms in the air, right as Stan appeared through the thick, snowy mist. “Stop! Don’t come any closer, Stan!” 

“Kyle! Thank God you’re okay!” 

Behind them, the werewolf howled louder. Dark eyes going wide with horror, Stan halted abruptly with a gasp. Kyle’s heart dropped. The werewolf growled and scrapped at the ground, so violent that she drew blood. Kenny was screaming – what and at whom, Kyle couldn’t say. His attention was focused solely on the gun Stan was holding in his sweaty palm… and on Yates, appearing at their side with two of his men. 

“The _fuck_!” one shouted, quickly arming himself. “Boss?” His voice shook in the wind as he threw a hesitant glance at Yates. At their boss’ imperceptible nod, the policemen cocked their guns and pointed them at Karen. 

“Stay back! _Stay the fuck back_!!” Kenny shouted. 

But it was too late. 

Karen leapt through the air, springing over Kenny to pounce on the men firing at her. All bullets missed her but one, brushing up against her forelimb and sending droplets of blood streaming through the wind. Gritting her fans in anger and pain, Karen collapsed in front of the policeman. At her moan, Kenny rushed to her side. He grabbed her forelimb, right where the bullet had scratched her, and she wailed in agony. In her violent attempt to push him away, her claws sliced through Kenny’s neck, ripping the skin right off. 

“FUCK!” Stan screamed. 

Kyle stared, appalled. Without a cry, Kenny dropped dead in the snow at Karen’s feet. A red halo spread around his head. Yates cussed under his breath and grabbed the walkie-talkie hanging loosely from his belt. Then, with a sudden change of mind, snatched Stan’s gun instead and pointed it at the monster. 

“You said this has silver bullets, son?” Yates asked, quickly loading the weapon. Betrayal punched Kyle right in the chest. He stared at Stan, but his friend was too shocked to pay attention to either of them. 

The werewolf groaned in pain and cried at the moon. Her gaze lingered on them for a couple of seconds before she turned with the obvious intention of disappearing through the woods. 

Yates aimed. 

Kyle needed to do something - anything! They lost Kenny! They couldn’t lose Karen too! In that moment, he finally realized what a fool he had been. The werewolf wasn’t a monster. It was a frightened teenage girl, trapped in a body that was hers only once in a month. No matter what happened on the night Ike was taken from him, Kyle couldn’t let another person die tonight. Revenge was futile. Karen’s death would be further humiliation to Kenny’s sacrifice! 

Without thinking, Kyle ran towards the chief of police and screamed as loud as he could. 

His voice ricocheted through the woods. 

The earth shook violently – an underground shockwave that brought them all to their knees. 

Face crumpling in pain, Stan slammed his hands over his ears and hunkered down. A couple of policemen followed his lead. But Yates didn’t. His lips twitched in a clear sign of agony, but his hands kept a steady grip of the gun. His finger found the trigger and - ! 

Kyle’s eyes didn’t register the bullet’s trajectory. But he did hear -painfully clearly- the terrible sound that followed as it wove into Karen’s skull. 

The world stood still. 

Kyle’s throat ached. His voice vanished in the wind. A dark curtain slowly descended over him. 

And then, just as the werewolf fell, another body rose. 

Kyle’s gaze locked onto Kenny’s. Three new scars Kyle had never seen before on his boyfriend’s throat flashed like silver bars in the darkness. His azure eyes drifted over to the werewolf’s corpse, then at Yates dropping the gun to wipe his bleeding ears in anguish - then over to Kyle. 

The world grew silent. 

They stared at each other for what felt like eons, taking each other in as if it was their first meeting. 

And their last. 

The world grew dark. 

The wind brought distant voices to their ears. A woman’s voice screaming a heartbreaking lament. A man saying they came too late. 

And then Kyle was no more. 

***

In the days that followed, Kyle was diagnosed with many things, from suicidal ideation to PTSD. He assured the doctors he had nothing of the sort. His parents didn’t believe him and insisted he stay in bed. Stan came to visit him in the hospital every day, sometimes alone, sometimes with Clyde or Token or Bebe – any of their old friends who had decided to stay in South Park. No one asked him about the circumstances that led him into the woods that fateful day. It wasn’t because the newspapers had glossed over the accident - especially the part where Yates and his men killed a werewolf, leaving Kyle to play the role of the unreliable witness of an arrest gone wrong. No. It was all Sheila’s doing. Everyone was just too afraid to ask anything that would trigger a panic attack and thus bring Sheila’s wrath upon them. Everyone except Stan, that is. 

Stan was the only one who knew the truth, but no matter how much Kyle wanted to speak with him about what had happened, they had yet to discuss it properly. Not that Stan wasn’t trying. It was mainly Kyle who kept his mouth shut. 

_ “…The serial killer is accused of both the Cartmans’ murder case and the manslaughter at the Rodríguezes’. He was shot down as he tried to escape…. Sergeant Yates has worked on this case non-stop and finally found the man’s hideout in the woods, not far from the McCormicks’ house… The McCormicks fled the country immediately after the serial killer’s attempted arrest, suggesting they might be accomplices. The police have issued arrest warrants…._”

“You really should switch that thing off,” Stan said, taking the remote control from Kyle’s hands and quickly pressing the red button. 

Kyle abandoned himself to the comforts of his cushions and the pointy sanitizer scent of his little hospital room. He sighed deeply and reached for his phone instead, but Stan snatched it away immediately. 

“It’s not healthy to dwell on that video any longer, Kyle,” Stan said in answer to Kyle’s murderous look. 

Kyle knew Stan was right, of course, but still resented him for not letting him watch Kevin’s prison escape just one last time. Surveillance camera footage had been leaked a couple of days ago, and despite the police’s efforts to take it down, it kept reappearing on some video-sharing platform or another. Apparently, Kyle was not the only one obsessed with it. 

It was only a two-minute long video, but it left viewers with questions that would last a lifetime. It started with a panoramic view of the prison yard, where inmates worked out or just chatted in groups. Kevin was not even recognizable at first, amidst all the orange-clad men. But then, about twenty seconds in, a mass of messy brown hair starts walking through the yard at a brisk pace. The rest of the inmates stare after him. Kevin raises his fist. At minute 1:03, he literally punches a hole in the four-foot long concrete block wall. Debris flies in the air, obstructing the view until minute 1:34. The inmates stare at each other for a couple of seconds before they start running towards the hole like crazed gazelles. The mass escape was promptly stopped. Everybody returned to their cells. 

Everybody but Kevin McCormick. 

“Are you going to speak to me anytime soon?” Stan asked, pulling Kyle back to reality. 

Kyle fidgeted. He scratched his unruly red hair and cleared his throat, which still hurt like hell whenever he tried to utter a word. 

“Well?” Stan prompted, eyes downcast in a painfully guilty look. “Are you still mad at me?” 

“No.” Kyle’s husky voice sent a shiver through them both. The redhead tried to catch Stan’s gaze and smiled encouragingly. “No, I was never mad at you. I would have done the same in your shoes.” 

A sigh of relief left Stan’s lips. “I _had_ to call for help. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being torn into pieces. Do you realize how worried I was when you told me you wanted to confront Kenny all on your own?” 

Kyle gulped. He patted his blanket in a pathetic attempt to stall for time “The doctors said I had a high fever and that’s why I don’t remember what happened on that day very well. I was delirious… and I wasn’t thinking straight.” 

“Yeah, you had completely lost your mind.” Stan snorted. His amused smile, however, lasted but a moment. “But I acted impulsively too. I can’t help but think it’s my fault Karen died. If I hadn’t called the police for back-up…”

Promptly, Kyle cut him off. “Yates would have gotten to her in any case. He was up to something, I’m sure of it.” 

Kyle thought over his last encounter with Barbrady. His words echoed loud and clear in his mind. 

_“…I shouldn’t have told him and Harrison that we were dealing with a…”_

Yeah, there was no way Sergeant Yates hadn’t known what exactly they were dealing with. 

“Barbrady told him,” Kyle continued, glancing briefly at Stan’s confused expression. “I have no idea how he knew, but he told Yates they were dealing with a werewolf. Yates didn’t even blink when he came face-to-face with Karen. While his men were cowering in fear and dumbly firing in the air, he kept a cool head. Yates knew that only silver bullets could kill her. He didn’t hesitate when he took the gun from your hands.” 

“If I hadn’t told him about it, though…” Stan insisted. 

Kyle hummed, deep in thought. Stan confessed to taking a gun with him, should worse come to worst. Naturally, Yates had asked about it when Stan turned up at the police station. From his perspective, Stan didn’t see any reason why he should have lied to him. In that moment, Kyle’s safety was top priority. Kyle would have probably acted the same. 

“Stan, you were trying to save me. I would never hold a grudge against you for that. And neither will Kenny.” 

An awkward silence fell over them at Kenny’s name. Stan threw a quick glance outside the window, picking at a scab absently around his nail. 

“I don’t know, Kyle. Kenny loved Karen very much.” 

“It’s not your fault, Stan.” 

His friend frowned but didn’t object anymore. “I guess we will never know, since he ran away immediately after.” 

Kyle’s lips narrowed into a thin line. Kenny dropping dead in a pool of his own blood briefly flashed across his closed eyelids. He had tried to tell Stan about it twice, but his friend had just stared at him as if he had completely lost his mind. Stan was convinced Kenny had fled the moment Karen was shot down. He had no recollection of Kenny’s throat being sliced open. Nor could he remember Kenny coming back from the dead. 

Kyle was perfectly aware it could have been an illusion his delirious mind had contrived in the panic that followed the shooting. Yet, he knew he hadn’t imagined it. Kenny had died – and resuscitated. The fact that Kyle had seen new scars around Kenny’s throat, where there were previously none, was further proof that it wasn’t all in his head. Kyle was not a creative person. Even his imagination had limits. Be as it may, the implications of new scars following lethal wounds Karen had inflicted him sent shivers running down his spine. This was brand new information Kyle was not ready to digest yet. 

“The police want to arrest him and his family,” Kyle said, hiding his real thoughts from Stan. “What else was he supposed to do?” 

Stan grimaced, obviously not convinced that might be Kenny’s real motive. “The McCormicks have been hiding a werewolf for many years. Now that Karen’s identity is out in the open…”

“Is it, though?” Kyle cut in. Stan arched an eyebrow. “Karen didn’t turn back into herself when she was shot. And her body wasn’t found the day after, either.” 

Kyle recalled the newspaper article that was published the morning after. Its conflicting content gave birth to a lot of conspiracy theories against the police. When rumors only escalated as the days passed, South Park’s Daily News released an interview in which Yates explained that the serial killer’s corpse had been transported into a big city for research purposes. 

“I don’t think Yates is responsible for the body’s disappearance,” Kyle said, giving voice to his thoughts. “If he was, he would have displayed it in a glass case and given his autograph to whoever came to see it. If they had spread the news it was a werewolf who had been terrorizing South Park these last couple of months, the public would have demanded actual proof about it. It’s big news, after all, the kind South Park loves. But the police don’t have anything to show except badly written articles. And a scared teenager is not a reliable source.” 

Stan caught Kyle’s gaze. “Did the McCormicks take it, then?” 

Kyle shrugged. “We can only hope. But one thing is for sure: Yates might not know who the werewolf had been, but he knows the McCormicks are linked to it, in one way or another. Kenny and his family would have never had a moment of peace in South Park, had they decided to stay.” 

Stan hummed in agreement. “Especially knowing how many South Parks’ citizens don't like them.” 

A few minutes passed in total silence while the two of them collected their thoughts. 

“I can’t believe we didn’t see it sooner.” Stan shook his head in disbelief. “How did Karen get away with it for so long?” 

Kyle sighed and rested his head on his cushion. The blindingly white ceiling annoyed the hell out of him. He closed his eyes and tried to think. “I don’t know…” Suddenly, he remembered Kenny’s outburst about how he was repeating Cartman and Butters’ mistake and scowled. “It was so easy to think it was Kenny. Everything pointed to Kenny. Even Cartman thought so.” 

Kyle squeezed his eyes shut and considered his options. Now that Kenny had gone who-knew-where and Karen was dead, Kyle found it easier to connect the dots. 

“It all started with those damned animals’ missing hearts,” Kyle eventually said, breaking the heavy silence. “It’s not an everyday occurrence, finding dismembered animals once a month – and with no hearts, no less. Even Wendy thought it was peculiar and started writing a journal about it. Maybe Cartman had one too, who knows. The point is, they both started investigating. But while Wendy decided it was just a student with mental problems pulling a tacky prank, Cartman took it a step further and noticed that Kenny was never there when we found those poor animals. He was sure it was no coincidence. He realized the animals were all killed during a full moon too. Add to that the fact that the heart of a werewolf’s victim must be removed to avoid the birth of a new werewolf... remember, Stan? Biggle wrote in his book: _There is poison laced through their blood and even a scratch can prove lethal to non-supernatural beings. If the bitten does not die, it is highly probable they will turn into a monster as well. The poison is stored in the heart of the bitten, sending the carrier into a state of apparent death. This is the reason why you should remove and destroy the heart of the bitten one, if you had the misfortune to witness a lycanthrope attack,_” Kyle recited. He clicked his tongue in self-deprecation. “Cartman read that book and realized Kenny could be nothing but a werewolf. It all matched up.” 

“Or at least he thought so,” Stan piped up. 

Kyle nodded. “Cartman decided to blackmail the werewolf. He thought it was Kenny. We will never know why, but that was his plan. The thing is, he didn’t have the guts to take Kenny on directly. Werewolf or not, he always had been kinda wary of him. So what does he do? He decides to blackmail someone close to Kenny instead. Kevin is out of the question. He’s just too big and strong. Mr. and Mrs. McCormick are out of the question too, since they are adults and could use Cartman’s threats against him. Who then? Someone small and sweet, who would never hurt a fly, of course. Karen!” 

Kyle burst out laughing. 

“Why are you laughing?” Stan asked, taken aback. 

“I was so close to the solution, Stan.” Kyle pushed himself in a sitting position. “I realized Cartman had invited someone he thought _wasn’t _the werewolf a long time ago, but I just forgot about it. My love for Kenny blinded me.” He shook his head, embarrassed at his own confession. “Because that’s what he did, Stan. Cartman invited Karen over, on a full moon, to corner her. If she knew he suspected Kenny of being the werewolf, she would have begged to go back home.” Kyle stopped and thought for a moment. “Maybe he made the same mistake that Ike did,” he pondered out loud. 

“What do you mean?” 

“At my request, Ike had started investigating Cartman’s murder too. What I didn’t know back then was that he found out more than he had bargained for. He discovered the existence of werewolves and their tamers.” 

“Tamers?” 

Kyle sighed. “Yes. Lycanthropes are born with a tamer, someone who can control the wolf. Ike thought it was Karen.” Kyle recalled Ike’s list with the McCormicks’ names. Next to Karen’s name was a T that presumably stood for ‘tamer’. “Ike started dating Karen the moment he became suspicious of Kenny, just like Cartman before him. This way, he found out Mr. and Mrs. McCormick always left the house during full moons, which was further proof that one family member was a werewolf. Tamers must stay with the werewolf in order to keep them under control, so Kenny’s parents were off the list. Kevin couldn’t be a werewolf either, since he had been locked up for Butters’ murder. That’s why Ike was so quick to link the tamer with Karen. Now it made sense why Mr. and Mrs. McCormick were the only ones who went camping once every month. Willingly or unwillingly, Karen and Kenny had to stay. One of them was the tamer, and Kevin was strong enough to take on a monster on his own. Maybe he even helped when the werewolf got out of control. Anyway, back to the point. Since Kenny was the werewolf, Ike and Cartman figured that only Karen could be the tamer.” 

“Wait a moment, Kyle. Are you sure Cartman got that far? Kevin was still an option when he was alive.” 

“I don’t think so. Remember that incident when Cartman insulted her? It was the moment Cartman started fearing Kenny for real. Kenny and Karen had always been close. Kevin was always kind of a loner, despite loving his siblings just as much - and he proved that when he killed Butters in cold blood to save Kenny. Tamers and werewolves are supposed to be really close, and Kenny would have done anything for his sister. What if there was a supernatural reason for his attachment to her, too? Karen was Cartman’s safest bet.” 

“Or not. Because Karen wasn’t the tamer,” Stan reasoned. 

“No, that’s the point. Everybody thought she was.” Kyle smirked. Things were slowly coming together. “Cartman lured her in. It was a full moon. If Karen was the tamer, she would beg to go back home to take care of Kenny. Cartman counted on that to make her confess about Kenny’s identity. So he locked all the doors and wouldn’t let her go until he got what he wanted.” 

Stan’s eyes widened as the pieces clicked in place. “But when night came, she transformed into a werewolf….” 

“…killing both Cartmans,” Kyle finished Stan’s sentence. 

“But why didn’t she escape through the door when she had the chance?” 

“She did escape, but from the basement window,” Kyle said after a moment’s thought. “She had probably turned back by then. The werewolf wasn’t small enough to squeeze through.” 

“There’s something else in this whole story I can’t put a finger on, though.” Stan shook his head. “But in any case, did Butters think Karen was the tamer too?” 

“I don’t know how much Cartman told him about Kenny being a werewolf,” Kyle answered. “Butters probably knew some things, but it was Barnaby who led him to the solution. Let’s not forget about Jimbo’s name and the codeword in Cartman’s room. Butters was no idiot. He probably collected all the clues and reached the same conclusion as Cartman. Blinded by hate, he went to Jimbo, got the gun, and decided to take his revenge on Kenny. But Kevin saw him from the window, acted on impulse and killed him.” 

Stan fixed his gaze on his hands. A server cart rolled loudly through the corridor, bringing them both back to the present. Kyle toyed with his patient wrist band. 

“Everyone got it all wrong. If tamers are real, then it was Kenny. I saw him, Stan. He was standing so close to Karen, without fear. He was calming her down so that I could return back home, unscathed.” Kyle sighed. “Every time Karen turned into a werewolf, Kenny was by her side. That’s why he left so early on Halloween. That’s why he turned up at Rodriguez’s party too. I remember him telling Karen to be home by the time he came back from work. It was not just him playing big brother. Despite all his efforts, Kenny couldn’t stop Karen from going to the party with Ike. So he went too, and asked after her. He wanted to save everyone before she transformed.” 

“Did Kenny get to her too late, or did things go awry?” asked Stan, catching Kyle’s sad expression. 

“I don’t know.” 

As if on cue, a nurse appeared at the doorway. Stan and Kyle raised their heads to greet her at the same time. 

“Mr. Broflovski, you’re discharged. The doctor will be here in a few to take you downstairs to your parents,” she said, brusque. She glanced at them briefly before leaving them alone again. 

“Okay. Vacation’s over,” Kyle said. Stan just snorted. 

***

It was easier to miss Kenny out of the hospital. The constant sound of hospital equipment, the comings and goings of the nurses and the doctors, the painful whimpers of a patient in the middle of the night, or even the flushing of a toilet from the room above his own had all been good distractions. The hours spent trying to reassure his parents that he was fine were hours spent not thinking about what happened in the woods that night. However, once he talked with Stan about the case he’d been wracking his brain over for months, his longing for what he lost came back as strong as ever. The what-if questions and hypotheses came flooding in, leaving him shaking and breathless. There was no denying Yates would have gotten to Karen sooner or later, but he nonetheless felt responsible for her premature death. Stan had tried his best to save him; but all Kyle had done was corner Kenny when he could have acted in a million different ways. If there was a person responsible for Karen’s death, it was him. His behavior didn’t make him any better than Yates, Jimbo and all those people who wanted to exterminate what scared them rather than come to a compromise with it. His actions drove Kenny and his family away. 

If Kenny didn’t want to see him anymore, Kyle would understand. 

Coming back home, Kyle realized just how much he had taken everything for granted. Once upon a time, nothing was thrilling. His routine consisted of going to school, meeting the same people everyday, bickering with Ike and avoiding his mom whenever she became suffocating. South Park was a small town in the middle of the mountains, surrounded by woods said to hide monsters and fairies. Kyle had been fed up with it all, with the closed-mindedness, the superstitious mentality and the loathing for everything that was not the norm. When everything changed, Kyle realized that, despite everything, he had been happy. 

He missed Cartman and his degenerate plans. He missed Ike’s big mouth. He missed his mom not being amenable. He missed his dad playing chess with Ike and making a fuss when he lost. He missed Stan complaining about Wendy. He missed Jimmy’s stand-up comedy. He missed Craig’s annoying attitude. He missed Bebe’s gossip. He missed Butters following them around like a puppy. He missed those days in class, staring out the window and wondering why a minute felt like a decade. He missed Tweek screaming before a surprise test. He missed Karen and Tricia snickering whenever Kyle and his friends passed by. He missed wondering what Kevin did in his spare time. But most of all, he missed Kenny. He missed him flipping through Playboys while Cartman schemed. He missed watching him eat slowly because he wanted to enjoy food to the fullest. He missed the way he devoured his pancakes on New Year’s. He missed the way Kenny looked at him over a bathtub on a weird afternoon spent at Token’s. He missed his surprised expression when Kyle kissed him for the first time. He missed him. 

Kyle spent the next couple of months in a state of complete apathy. Soon, he and his parents will be moving to New Jersey and leave South Park behind forever. The house Kyle had spent his childhood in was the ghost of what it used to be. Clutter prevailed as they piled one cardboard box on top of the other. The TV set was always switched on for company. The news mainly consisted of strange sightings by the edge of the woods, and the Broflovskis listened to it distractedly, minding their own business. They were already washing their hands of what was going on with South Park, as if they had long moved out. 

It was on a day like this that someone rang at their front door. Kyle was sitting on the floor with his eyes glued to the TV screen. The couch had been sent away to NJ long ago and the plastic chairs they used as replacements were not comfortable at all. 

“Oh, are you Kyle’s friend?” Sheila asked, opening the door wider. Kyle’s gaze drifted towards the stranger absentmindedly, shooting to his feet when he recognized him as the man that had waved at him in the cemetery - one day, a lifetime ago. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Broflovski,” the man said, flashing a polite smile and waltzing in like he owned the place. He was tall and fairly handsome. His pale, almost sickly complexion was in complete contrast to the black shirt and jeans he was wearing. He gave the house a distasteful look, but the disgust in his expression faded as soon as he met Sheila’s eyes. 

“I’m glad you haven’t moved out yet,” he said. “I would have been devastated if I couldn’t see Kyle before he left.” 

“Oh, you’re very sweet.” Sheila chuckled, turning serious again when she spotted Kyle standing in the middle of the room, gaping like a fish out of water. “Don’t be rude and just stand there, Kyle, come greet your friend…?” She flashed an apologetic glance towards the black-haired man. 

“Damien.” 

“Damien,” Sheila repeated, turning to Kyle again. Then, flushing red with embarrassment, she gently grabbed Damien’s arm and let him further in. “Oh, excuse me for the mess. We don’t even have a couch for you to sit on! Please, take one of the chairs. Would you like something to drink?” 

“A cup of tea would be nice.” Damien let out a relieved sigh as he sat down and crossed his awfully long legs. 

“Tea!” Sheila exclaimed and rushed into the kitchen. “Gerald! Come and help me put the coffee table back in the living room!” 

Kyle heard his father complain. Gerald peeked into the living room and gave Damien a quick look-over before disappearing back into the kitchen. To Kyle’s utmost surprise, his father then singlehandedly dragged the coffee table into the living room, directly in front of Damien. 

“Tea will be ready in a moment, my boy!” 

Kyle's mouth fell open. His eyes followed Gerald, disappearing into the kitchen again. “What is wrong with them?!” 

“Ah, it’s just part of my charm,” Damien said with a chuckle. Kyle’s attention whipped back to him. 

“Who the fuck are you?” 

Damien shifted in his chair, letting out a displeased grunt. At a flick of his fingers, the plastic chair transformed into a tweed armchair. “Ah, much better.” 

Kyle rubbed his eyes in disbelief. “What the…”

“Tea!” Sheila exclaimed, walking back in with a tray in her hands. She placed it on the coffee table without deeming the armchair worthy of any attention. “Milk and sugar are over here, and I have some cookies in the oven if you - !” 

“It’s fine, Mrs. Broflovski. I take my tea black.” Damien winked. Giggling, Sheila left them alone again. A couple of seconds passed in absolute silence, right until Kyle heard his parents start talking about the weather in the kitchen. 

“What the fuck.” 

Damien took a careful sip of his tea. “Sit down, Kyle, I don’t have all day.” 

Irritated, Kyle obeyed. He clicked his tongue and moved his chair to face Damien directly. 

“I remember you. You were the guy in the cemetery that day! How do you know who I am and where I live? What the fuck do you want from me?” 

Damien rolled his eyes. “You’ve always been so irritating. You called me that day, Kyle, but to answer your questions… I know every single inhabitant of this world, and I don’t want anything from you. I am just the messenger. You younglings are so demanding nowadays. I used to be addressed with the utmost respect.” He set his cup back down and reached into one of his pockets. 

“What’s that?” Kyle asked, suspiciously eyeing the envelope Damien was holding out to him. 

“A letter.” Damien rolled his eyes again. “Humans these days have completely forgotten their manners, but I expected a Death Bringer to be more respectful towards his guests.” Taken aback, Kyle shot a quick glance towards the kitchen’s door. “Don’t worry, they won’t hear a thing.” 

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows. “How do you know what I am?” he asked, lowering his voice. 

With an irritated _humph_, Damien placed the letter on the coffee table and picked up his cup of tea. “I really hate the names _Death Bringer_ and _Death Tamer_. It makes me sound as if I were some kind of a dog. No one can bring me anywhere I don’t want to go and, of course,” he flashed Kyle a lopsided grin, “no one can tame me.” 

Staring at Damien’s pointy teeth, Kyle felt a shiver run down his spine. The man quietly sipped his tea and smacked his lips in appreciation. 

“But I’ve known Kenny for a while,” Damien continued, breaking the silence that had fallen over them like cold snow. Kyle’s heart started racing and Damien looked him head on, as if he could hear Kyle’s heartbeat. “It’s impossible to say no to those beautiful azure eyes, right Kyle?” 

Kyle felt a blush crawl up his neck. Damien smirked. 

“You saw Kenny?” 

“He’s doing alright, if that’s what you are really asking.” With a pale, elongated finger, Damien slid the letter towards Kyle. “He wanted you to have this. I guess I should apologize for taking so long, but time flies differently on the other side. If it weren’t for Ike, I would still be minding my own business.” 

Kyle whipped his head up. “Ike?” 

“He’s terribly good at chess,” Damien said, scowling. “He won a couple of wishes after beating me, so he asked me to help you out. We’ll get there when the time comes. Aren’t you going to read the letter?” 

Kyle hid his shaking hands between his tights. The letter stood on the coffee table, waiting for him. “When did you meet Ike? He died months ago.” His voice cracked mid-sentence. 

“Oh, I thought you were a smart man.” Damien shook his head in disappointment. “Don’t you get it already? Everyone meets me once in their life. I was there when Ike left you, remember? You were there too.” 

Kyle closed his eyes, suddenly recalling those long spider fingers, crawling inside the room of his dreams. His breath became short. 

“Good,” the man said with a content smirk. “Now, read the letter. I’m sure you’ll have a lot of questions and I can’t wait on you all day.” 

Finally, Kyle reached for the letter. His vision swam as he unfolded it and recognized Kenny’s handwriting. He shot a look at Damien, drinking his tea in his tweed armchair, before he gave the letter his undivided attention. 

_Dear Kyle,_

_I have no idea where to start, or what to say. It’s been a couple of days, but all I can think of is the way you looked at me that day, when you thought I was a werewolf and was ready to die at my hands. _

Damien snickered. Annoyed, Kyle looked up from the letter - only to realize with a shudder that he hadn’t been reading out loud. 

“Kenny has always had a dramatic strike in his letters, don’t you think?” Damien asked. Kyle didn’t answer – now uncomfortably aware that the strange man knew what he thought. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help muttering a shut up before resuming the letter. 

_I am surprised you know about us – or at least, I am surprised that you started to believe so easily. But I guess it’s only normal when you come face-to-face with a werewolf on a Halloween night. When Karen pounced at you, I thought I had come too late. Back then, you had no clue how much you meant to me, but the idea of losing you terrified me. I jumped between the two just in time to calm Karen down. I dragged your body away, already imagining the millions of questions you would ask me when - if - you ever woke up. Nothing happened. You didn’t say anything about werewolves, and I thought to myself that I shouldn’t have expected you to change your mind on the supernatural so easily. You’ve always hated when things couldn’t be explained by strict logic and scientific expressions. You’ve always made fun of Butters for being scared to walk alone at night. You thought I was the only one who saw things your way, that I was different from Stan and the others because I knew monsters were not real. Despite being friends for so long, your opinion of me was so superficial back then. Now you know you were wrong, Kyle. I was already in too deep. I didn’t give much thought to the supernatural because I was - am - one of them. That’s the secret you were trying to get out of me that night. I think, now that Karen is gone and we’re on the run, I can finally let things out in the open. Still, I have no idea where to start. _

_I could start from the very beginning, from the stories my Grandma told us about our family. How they used to call us South Park’s protectors, when we still mattered. For you see, there is one thing South Park was not wrong about. There are things lurking in the darkness of the woods that humans cannot comprehend, things that, if left unguarded, will swallow the town whole. Werewolves are unstable creatures, but they are the woods’ royalty. They are the chaos that brings order to the supernatural world. If there ever was a protector of South Park, then it was Karen. My parents, Kevin and I were just there to help her out, to lead her back on track in case she went astray. I played the biggest role of them all. They call me a Tamer, but it doesn’t sound quite right. I loved my sister; I didn’t tame her once. I was her guardian angel, Kyle. But I failed. Just like my dad failed his sister. I guess some things just run in the family. _

_Once again, I am losing track of what I wanted to say. You see, Kyle, I do have a power - and now I wonder if you will remember it, once you finish reading these few lines. I tried to tell you many times, but it always just slips your mind. Here it goes again: I can’t die._

Kyle stopped reading and looked over to Damien’s bored expression. He had drunk all the tea and was now toying with the cup, as if trying to predict the future from the dried-up tea leaves. 

“Is Kenny immortal?” 

“Ach, don’t be ridiculous,” Damien said, setting the cup down. “He asked me the same thing because he died enough times to end up believing it himself. No, no one is immortal. There will be a day when he’s going to meet me for the last time too.” 

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows. He re-read the last sentence a couple of times. 

“I saw Karen kill him,” he recalled out loud. “There was blood everywhere. No one can survive a wound like that.” 

“I didn’t say he survives his wounds.” Damien looked Kyle straight in the eyes. “All he does is come back from the Death. This is why they call creatures like him Tamers. It’s not because of werewolves. That’s nonsense. It’s short for Death Tamers. They are considered to be the ones who trick Death every time. But it doesn’t work like that exactly. It’s a power that deteriorates over time, just like every cell in your human bodies.” 

“Kenny says he tried to tell me already… but I don’t remember him ever telling me about it.” 

“Ah, yes.” Damien nodded patronizingly. “That’s actually your fault, Kyle.” 

“Excuse me?!” 

“_You_ were meant to remember,” Damien said, stressing the personal pronoun with a smirk. “But the problem was, you were an Unbeliever. Supernatural beings recognize each other. They can see. You couldn’t, because you disregarded your identity so much it became excruciatingly painful to keep your powers under control. When your brother died, they just blew up – as you mortals say. Your powers were all over the place and literally made you sick. But now that you finally started to believe - !” Abruptly, Damien stopped speaking. He leaned back in his armchair and intertwined his fingers together. “Hmm… I think we should leave that problem for later. It’s better if you finish reading the letter first.” 

Kyle arched an eyebrow but did as told. 

_It’s convenient to have an immortal in a house that hosts a werewolf. Karen was not a monster. She was the sweetest girl, even when she acted like a bitch sometimes. She was smart and brave. But she changed with the full moon. Werewolves, just like vampires, need to hunt. This is why The Woods were so afraid of her. This is how we kept the real monsters at bay. She was the Queen and King of them all. With her around, no one would dare bring chaos into South Park. But every time she changed into a werewolf, there wasn’t much we could do to protect South Park from her. Mom had no power over her. Dad could resuscitate if worse came to worst - but the alcohol had deteriorated him so much, it was impossible to know whether he wouldn’t die for real if Karen killed him. Kevin could protect himself, but couldn’t calm her down. I could die, which meant her thirst for blood would be sated in those nights she was more wolf than human. We always had a special bond, so the times she killed me were few and far in between._

_Dad taught me everything I needed to know. He used to do the same with his sister, Sandra, you know? I never talked to you about her, but she’s a legend in the family. She was not a werewolf only on full moons! She was incredible in her human form too. Kevin probably inherited his strength from her – he’s quite proud of that, too. Anyway, dad was her Tamer. My grandparents, Sandra and he were really close, and worked well as protectors of South Park. It all changed when Sandra was killed and Grandpa committed suicide soon after. Dad’s drinking problem started then – he always blamed himself for what happened. He’s sure Stan’s uncle and Barnaby are behind it, since they had been following Sandra for months before that fateful day. _

Kyle paused. Damien uncrossed his legs and stretched. 

“Is it true?” 

“Do you really want to know?” 

Kyle thought it over. “Did Barnaby or Jimbo kill Sandra McCormick?” 

“Yes, it was one of them.” 

“Who?” 

“Oh, Kyle, if you think it through, you already know the answer. It happened twenty years ago. It gave someone fame when he didn’t deserve it.” 

Kyle dropped his gaze back on the letter. He kept reading. 

_I don’t know what to think about that… it’s actually not important anymore. Be that as it may, dad fell into depression and he completely lost his faith in South Park after that. Mom sometimes wonders if the murderers were planning to kill the rest of the family too - but no one remembers dad’s power and no one knows about mom, so they probably didn’t think they were a threat. It’s a theory that gives dad strength every day – the thought that something might happen to us keeps him up at night. I was supposed to not make the same mistake. I tried, Kyle. I really tried. _

_When Karen was but a pup, it was easier to keep her in check. We used to spend the whole night out in the woods. Those were happy times that flew by so fast, I wonder if they aren’t a figment of my imagination. But she slowly became stronger and bigger. Her hunting instincts were becoming more difficult to suppress. I let her do it. She started with small animals, like squirrels. But as she grew, so did the prey she hunted. One morning - she was seven, I think – she woke up between the sheets, her face and her hands stained with blood. She cried when I told her the truth. For you see, Kyle, Karen never remembered those nights. Her mind completely blacked out whenever she transformed. When I told her the truth that day, she was devastated. I couldn’t bear to see her so sad, so I decided to pretend I had pulled a prank on her, just to make her feel better. She hated me at first – said I had a sick sense of humor – but then she laughed, and I loved it when she laughed. I kept her real identity a secret from her. Now I know I acted wrongfully. But I loved her too much to see her sad, you know? I used to be important to her. At least someone thought I mattered. I didn’t want to let go of that. _

_So, I let her hunt. We didn’t spend the night only in the woods anymore. We broadened our horizons. The schoolyard was one of her favorite places. She killed and ate, and I took the hearts of the animals I could find, because you need to take the heart out of the werewolf’s victim. This is how you avoid creating another monster. I was scared the animals would come back to life and transform into some kind of werewolf-critter hybrid. I know it’s stupid, Kyle. But I didn’t know if that was a real possibility or not. Everything was possible. _

_Things got worse when Cartman became suspicious. Some way or another, he realized a werewolf was behind the attacks. I had to protect Karen, and I did all I could to throw doubt into Cartman’s mind. It worked – in a way. Sometimes I was so tired after a sleepless night that I missed school when the others found the animals – even when I tried my best to hide them. Sometimes when Karen killed me, it took me a while to come back. It turned to my advantage. Suspicion fell on me and I didn’t do anything to stop it. As long as Karen was safe, I kept repeating to myself, everything was fair game. _

_The night Cartman lured Karen to his house was one of the worst nights in my life. I didn’t know where Karen was. I searched for her all over South Park, but I couldn’t find her. I think you know the rest. She turned back into herself when she was still at Cartman’s. She woke up in the basement and saw her bloodied hands. She never told me if she saw the corpses. All she could tell me was that she panicked and escaped through the window. I broke into Cartman’s house a week after that, trying to get rid of any evidence Karen might have left behind. The first thing I did was take the hearts from Cartman and his mom. I hated every moment of it. Sometimes I got sick and had to stay longer than I wanted to clean after myself. I didn’t want the police to us because I grew careless. Eventually, I made a mistake and got caught by Cartman’s neighbor as I snuck out of the house one final time. She called the police that very same night. _

_When you asked to break into Cartman’s house, I jumped at the opportunity. I knew I probably forgot something – I still hadn’t managed to clean out the basement, after all. Little did I know that the smoking gun was in Cartman’s room. That note took me completely by surprise. You know the rest. But I think we should go back in time for a second, because without Butters, you never would have thought to break into Cartman’s house at all. _

_What you don’t know is that Butters repeated Cartman’s same mistake. He collected his evidence and figured out I was the werewolf. He came to our home that day. He wanted to talk to me, alone. We walked around the house – talking about everything and nothing at all, at first. But mostly, he talked about Cartman. Butters said he was his best friend. Then suddenly, he started crying, telling me through angry tears that he couldn’t believe I had killed him like that, after all that we’ve been through together. I didn’t have the time to panic or to reason with him. He took out that damned gun, pressed it against my temple and pulled the trigger. I think I saw Kevin running towards us, bat in hand, from the corner of my eye. I knew I hadn’t dreamt that only the day after, when I resuscitated. Kevin confessed immediately. He couldn’t believe what he had done, but he had seen no other choice. Butters would have not remembered my death, but he would have tried to kill me every day until he succeeded. That was no life Kevin wanted me to live. Moreover, Butters knew too much. Maybe one day he would have found out Karen was the werewolf too. He wanted to save us both. I sometimes wish I was as brave as Kevin. Maybe Karen would still be alive then. _

_Kyle, you have no idea how much hope you gave that day, when you told me you weren’t going to investigate Cartman’s murder anymore. I thought the worst was over, that Karen was safe. Reality crashed down on me when Ike asked her out. I wasn’t suspicious at first, Kyle. I didn’t think much of it until I overheard the kind of questions he asked her. He may have been adopted, but you two were more similar than either of you were willing to admit. Ike was a Broflovski. Immediately, I knew something was up. There was no way he didn’t have an ulterior motive with Karen. She had no idea who she really was – I was trying so hard to keep her in the dark. Wouldn’t you lose your mind if I told you that you’ve killed your brother innumerable times, that you were behind Cartman’s murder and it was your fault, indirectly, that Kevin was in jail? As I already mentioned, werewolves are unstable creatures. Karen had to keep living like a normal teenager - as normal as she could, knowing about the supernatural - in order to keep the werewolf inside her under control. What happened to Kevin destabilized her enough already. And now Ike came into the picture, to throw oil on the fire. I lost my mind. Things were getting out of hand. _

_And then we happened. Seeing that Ike made Karen happy, that he actually liked her, made me think I might have overanalyzed his motives. Whatever they had, I wanted to have it with you. I’ve always liked you, Kyle. Even when you didn’t think much of me. When you kissed me, I thought that maybe, I could stop glancing over my shoulder at every corner. People had died because of me, but it was over. I could start over again. Maybe I hadn’t failed Karen. But I was wrong, Kyle. it wasn’t Ike, or Cartman, or the discovery of Jimbo’s guns that made things worse. It was me. After Cartman died, I decided to start locking Karen in the basement during full moons. I didn’t want her to stroll in through the woods anymore. The werewolf revolted against me for that. She lashed out at me every time, because she wanted out in her natural habitat. Her anger was reflected in her human form too. Without knowing why, Karen started to openly hate me. She rebelled. She didn’t follow my suggestions anymore. That night, she went to Rodriguez’s party without my consent. I came too late. By the time I reached her, she had already gone on a rampage. Once again, people died because of me. _

_I think you know what happened next. It’s still too painful to talk about. I should have known you wouldn’t let go of Cartman’s case so easily. I underestimated you, just as I overestimated my powers over Karen. That’s the moral of the story. Maybe if I had been frank with you from the very beginning… but I had no idea who to trust. And you didn’t believe. I am starting to think that I didn’t deserve that glimmer of happiness you gave me those last few months. What happened was so unexpected. Sometimes, I wonder if it really happened at all. Maybe that is why I decided to tell you the entire truth, because you deserve to know who the monster you confessed to be in love with really is. My heart aches just thinking about your words. Did I ever tell you, Kyle? I loved you too. I think I will love you forever, until I close my eyes for the last time. Death says my turn will come too. I hope it’s soon. _

_I have to go. It’s 4 am and we need to move onto the next city. We are looking for a safe place to stay, where people don’t know us, where we can be free. Mom said you once asked her why we stayed in South Park, despite people not wanting us there. Now you know the truth. We were supposed to live in the slums. The poorer you are, the less people notice you. You can’t protect people if you are blinded by stage lights. It has been a tiring life, but we tried our best. I wish I could have shown you my best too. Don’t blame yourself for what happened. Don’t let Stan blame himself for it either. It was not your fault. _

_Goodbye, Kyle. I’m glad I met you. _

_Kenny_

Kyle put the letter down on the coffee table, right next to Damien’s empty cup. His parents’ voice drifted from the kitchen, their pointless conversation giving the atmosphere a near-surreal hue. Damien crossed his legs again and touched the tips of his fingers together. 

Finally, Kyle decided to speak, his voice breaking the silence in a million tiny pieces. He could swear he heard the air crack. “You’ve spoken with Ike.” 

“Yes.” Damien glanced at him carefully through half-lidded eyes. 

“Can I speak to him?” Kyle dared to ask. The right side of Damien’s lip tugged upwards. 

“No, he’s long gone to the other side.” 

Kyle’s shoulder slumped. “And what about Kenny?” 

“Ah.” Damien closed his eyes. “That depends on how you want to proceed.” 

“Hmmm.” Kyle threw a brief look over his shoulder. His parents were still talking to each other quietly. 

“As I told you,” Damien said, leaning forwards, “your brother cared a lot about you and wanted me to help. If you want to see Kenny again, you should probably follow his suggestion.” 

“Which is?” 

“Taking care of your powers first.” Damien reached for his pocket and procured a white business card. “Ike was wrong about many things, but in the last moment, he realized that he got one thing right. How? I can’t say. He read that book and knew what you were immediately.” 

Kyle raised his confused gaze towards him. “A Death Bringer?” 

“You are not made a Farshee, lad.” Damien toyed with the card. “You are born one. Not all of them realize what they are. Not even in death. Humans never get Death Bringers right. Some say they are terrifying creatures; some say they are boring. Others say they are useless. Death Bringers are none of those things. Inquisitors might have used some of them to their advantage, but there are Death Bringers out there that cannot be controlled, who can unleash their power to their full potential. You could be one of them, but only with the right guidance. Right now, you are but a duckling that doesn’t know how to swim.” 

Kyle flushed in anger. “I think I am handling this fairly well, thank you.” 

Damien burst out laughing, right in his face. “If you would have kept denying your powers just a little longer, Kyle, you would have died from high fever. You were out of control. Your visions mean nothing to you, which makes them useless. Do you want to know a secret? You don’t control your powers. You work with them. Right now, you are not a good team player. Don’t overestimate your social abilities.” Balling his hands into fists, Kyle clicked his tongue. Damien continued, undeterred: “Here in my hands, I have the solution to your problems. Carol McCormick was once given the same opportunity, but she refused. She wanted to concentrate on her husband and her future children. You have neither. So what are you going to do?” 

Kyle eyed the blank business card suspiciously. 

“Do I have to leave my parents?” 

“Wouldn’t you have done that anyway, once you got accepted into college?” 

Kyle frowned. “What’s on that card?” 

“Someone’s name. One of the best Death Bringers still alive… someone close to Kenny.” 

Kyle grabbed the card. He flipped it over - but there was nothing written there. “You’re playing with me.” 

“You must accept the offer on your own free will.” Damien leaned back in his armchair. 

Kyle stared at the business card, deep in thought. “Ike wanted me to have this?” 

“Ike wanted you to be happy.” 

The card flickered in Kyle’s shaking hands. Words formed on blinding-white paper, a name and an address forming under Kyle’s surprised gaze. 

“Cecilia Biggle?” 

Damien smirked. “The one and only. Kenny’s grandmother.” 

With that said, Damien stood up from his armchair and stretched his arms over his head. 

“What am I going to say to my parents?” Kyle asked, shooting to his feet as well. Damien shrugged. 

“Didn’t your mother want you to study? You’re a college boy, Kyle. Congratulations. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He snapped his fingers and the armchair transformed back into a plastic one. “I overstayed my welcome. We’ll see each other once again, Kyle, be sure of it. Don’t expect any more chit-chat from now on… unless you beat me at chess.” 

Kyle followed the laughing Damien heading towards the door with his gaze. 

“Oh, and one more thing!” Damien exclaimed, raising a finger in the air. “South Park is an unprotected town right now. Its end is coming.” He flashed a pointy smile at Kyle. “You might want to warn the friends you hold dear. People will leave on their own free will, of course, but it won’t be pleasant for those who stay. So long, Kyle.” 

The door closed with a soft _click_. 

Kyle sat down again. He tucked the business card away and picked up the letter again, reading it over and over again until the sun set over the horizon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very special thank you to @LWTIS for being such an awesome supporter and beta! Your talent will never fail to amaze me, my friend. <3 And of course, thank you to all of you who liked this story, thank you to all those who kudoed and many thank you to all those who took their time to comment too! I love you all very much <3


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